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‘You’re right in the fashion, Miss Brown,” observed Adele.- 
Page 25 . 


MOLLY BROWN’S 
SENIOR DAYS 


BY 

NELL SPEED 

AUTHOR OF “molly BROWN’S FR^HMAN DAYS,” “MOLLY BROWIS’S 
SOPHOMORE DAYS,” “MOLLY BROWN’S JUNIOR DAYS,” ETC., ETC. 


mm FOUR HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY CHARLES L. IVRENN 



NEW YORK 

HURST & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 




Copyright, 1913 

BY 

HURST & COMPANY 


« 

©CI.A:j 4669 a 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER page 

L Good News and Bad 5 

IL A Troubled Sunday 20 

III. Gossip Over the Teacups ... 38 

IV. The Senior Ramble 51 

V. All^s Well That Ends Well . . 66 

VI. The Retort Courteous .... 77 

VII. A Stolen Visit 89 

VIII. Barbed Arrows 104 

IX. The Substitute 114 

X. The Polite Freeze-out . . . .126 

XL The Ways of Providence . . .138 

XII. Friendly Rivals 152 

XIII. The Drop of Poison 164 

XIV. Judy Defiant 180 

XV. The Campus Ghost 195 

XVI. On the Grill 208 


3 


4 CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVII. A Christmas Eve Misunderstanding 220 

XVIIL Two Christmas Breakfasts . . . 236 

XIX. Facing THE Enemy 251 

XX. The Jubilee 267 

XXL Farewells 277 

XXII. The Final Days 289 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

‘‘You’re Right in the Fashion, Miss Brown,” observed 

Adele Frontispiece ^ 

Before She Had Time to Realize the Danger, Jimmy 

Lufton Had Torn Off His Coat 132 ^ 

Molly Glanced Back. Sure Enough, the Phantom . . . 
was Running Behind Them . 198 

Good-bye to Wellington and the Old Happy Days . 303 ^ 


r , ■ 


' • •, 




V 

1 : 






Molly Brown’s Senior Days 


CHAPTER I. 

GOOD NEWS AND BAD. 

Summer still lingered in the land when Wel- 
lington College opened her gates one morning in 
September. Frequent heavy rains had freshened 
the thirsty fields and meadows, and autumn had 
not yet touched the foliage with scarlet and gold. 
The breeze that fluttered the curtains at the win- 
dows of No. 5 Quadrangle was as soft and humid 
as a breath of May. It was as if spring was in 
the air and the note of things awakening, push- 
ing up through the damp earth to catch the warm 
rays of the sun. It was Nature’s last effort be- 
fore she entered into her long sleep. 

Molly Brown, standing by the open window, 
gazed thoughtfully across the campus. Snatches 


5 


6 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
of song and laughter, fragments of conversation 
and the tinkle of the mandolin floated up to her 
from the darkness. It was like an oft-told but 
ever delightful story to her now. 

^'Shall I ever be glad to leave it all V she asked 
herself. ''Wellington and the girls and the hard 
work and the play 

How were they to bear parting, the old crowd, 
after four years of intimate association? Did 
Judy love it as she did, or would she not rather 
feel like a bird loosed from a cage when at last 
the gates were opened and she could fly away. 
But Molly felt sure that Nance would feel the 
pangs of homesickness for Wellington when the 
good old days were over. 

All these half-melancholy thoughts crowded 
through Molly^s mind while Judy thrummed the 
guitar and Nance, busy soul, arranged the books 
on the new white book shelves. 

P^resently the other girls would come trailing 
in, the "old guard,’' to talk over the events of 


GOOD NEWS AND BAD 


7 


that busy first day : Margaret Wakefield, bursting 
with opinions about politics and woman's suf- 
frage; pretty Jessie Lynch, and the Williams sis- 
ters whose dark lustrous eyes seemed to see be- 
yond the outer crust of things. Last of all, after 
a discreet interval, would come a soft, deprecat- 
ing tap at the door, and Otoyo Sen, most charm- 
ing of little Japanese ladies, with a beaming, apol- 
ogetic smile, would glide into the room on her 
marshmallow soled slippers. 

‘'Everybody's late," exclaimed Judy, unexpect- 
edly breaking in on her friend's preoccupation. 
“I do wish my trunk were unpacked. I can't bear 
to be unsettled. It's the most disagreeable thing 
about the first day of college." 

“Why don't you go unpack it, then, lazybones?" 
asked Nance, a trifle sternly. As much as she 
loved her care-free Judy, she never quite ap- 
proved of her. 

“How little you understand my nature, Nance," 
answered Judy, reproachfully. 


8 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

know that people who pride themselves on 
having the artistic temperament never like to un- 
pack trunks or do any kind of so-called menial 
work, for that matter. But there can be just as 
much art in unpacking a trunk as in a painting a 
picture 

''Ho, ho!” interrupted Judy, who loved these 
discussions with her serious-minded friend. 
"How would you like to engage for all your life 
in the immortal work of unpacking trunks?” 

"I never said anything about doing it al- 
ways — ” broke in Nance, when the argument was 
brought to a sudden end by the arrival of the 
other girls. 

There was a great noise of talk and laughter 
while they draped themselves about the room. 

College girls in kimonos never sit in straight- 
backed chairs. They usually curl themselves up 
on divans or in Morris chairs, or sit, Turkish 
fashion, on cushions on the floor. 

"Well, and what's the news?” they asked. 


GOOD NEWS AND BAD 9 

Most of them had caught only flying glimpses of 
each other during the day. 

‘Wait until I make my annual inspection/’ or- 
dered Judy, carefully examining the fourth fin- 
ger of the left hand of every girl. ''No rings or 
marks of rings,” she said at each inspection until 
she came to Jessie, who was endeavoring to sit 
on her left hand while she pushed Judy away with 
her right. "Now, Jessica, no concealments,” 
cried Judy, "and from your seven bosom friends ! 
It’s not fair. Are you actually wearing a soli- 
taire?” 

"I assure you it’s my mother’s engagement 
ring,” Jessie protested, but Judy had extricated 
the pretty little hand on the fourth finger of 
which sparkled not one, but two, rings. 

"Caught ! Caught, the first of all !” they cried 
in a chorus. 

"Honestly and truly I’m not.” 

"It looks to me as if you had been caught twice, 
Jessie,” said Molly laughing. 


10 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

‘'No, no, one of them is really Mama’s and the 
other — well, it was lent to me. It’s not mine. 
I simply promised to wear it for a few months.” 

Jeers and incredulous laughter followed this 
statement. 

“We only hope you’ll hold out to the end, Jes- 
sie,” remarked Katherine in tones of reproach. 

“What, leave dear old Wellington and all of 
you for any ordinary^ stupid man? I’d never 
think of it,” cried Jessie. 

“I’m not afraid,” here put in Edith. “Fickle 
Jessica may change her mind and her ring half 
a dozen times before June. Who can tell ?” 

“I’m not fickle where all of you are concerned, 
anyhow,” answered Jessie reproachfully. 

“You’re a dear, Jessie,” broke in Molly. She 
never did quite enjoy seeing other people teased. 

“Will some one kindlee make for me explana- 
tion of the word ‘jubilee’?” asked Otoyo Sen, 
seated cross-legged on a cushion in the very cen- 
ter of the group, like an Oriental story-teller. 


GOOD NEWS AND BAD 11 

‘‘Jubilee?’^ said Edith. By an unspoken ar- 
rangement, it was always left to her to answer 
such questions. ^Why jubilee means a rejoicing, 
a celebration.’’ 

"‘There will be singing and dancing and feast- 
ing greatlee of many days enduring?” asked 
Otoyo. 

“It depends on who’s doing the enduring,” 
Edith said, smiling. 

“Wellington will be enduring of greatlee much 
rejoicing,” went on the little Japanese. “For 
Wellington will give jubilee entertainment for 
fifty years of birthday, perhaps, maybe.” 

Here was news indeed for seven seniors at the 
very head and front of college affairs. 

“And where did you get this interesting in- 
formation, little one?” demanded Margaret. 

Otoyo blushed and hesitated; then cocked her 
head on one side exactly like a little song sparrow 
and glancing timidly at Nance, replied: 

“Mr. Andrew McLean, second, he told it to 
me. 


12 MOLLY BEOWN'S SENIOR DAYS 

Nance smiled unconcernedly. She never 
dreamed of being jealous of the funny little Japa- 
nese. 

''And why, pray, didn’t Miss Walker announce 
it this morning at chapel when she made her open- 
ing address ?” asked Margaret. 

"Ah, that is for another veree sadlee reason,” 
answered Otoyo, her voice taking on a mournful 
note. "You have not heard?” 

"No, what?” they demanded, bursting with 
curiosity. 

"Professor Edwin Green, the noble, honorable 
gentleman of English Literature, he is veree ill. 
You have not heard such badlee news? Miss 
Walker, she will announce nothing of jubilee 
while this poor gentleman lies in his bed so veree, 
greatlee ill.” 

"Why, Otoyo,” cried Molly, her voice rising 
above the excited chorus, "is it really true? You 
mean dangerously ill? What is the matter with 
him?” 


GOOD NEWS AND BAD 


13 


has been two weeks in the infirmaree with 
a great fever/’ 

‘'You mean typhoid?” 

Otoyo nodded. It was a new name to her. 
She had not had much to do with illness during 
her two years in America, but she remembered 
the dread name of typhoid. It had a sad associa- 
tion to her, for she had been passing the infirmary 
at the very moment when a black, sinister looking 
ambulance had brought Professor Edwin Green 
from his rooms to the hospital. 

Molly relapsed into silence. Somehow, the joy 
of reunion had been spoiled and she tasted the 
bitterness of dark forebodings. It came to her 
with unexpected vividness that Wellington would 
not be the same without the Professor of English 
Literature, whose kind assistance and advice had 
meant so much to her. Only a little while ago 
she had made a secret resolution to seek him in 
his office on the morrow for counsel on a very 
vital question. In plain words : how to avoid be- 


14 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
ing a school teacher. And now this brilliant and 
learned man, by far the brightest star in the 
Wellington faculty, was dangerously ill. Molly 
felt suddenly the cold clutch of disappointment. 

The other girls were sorry but not really 
shaken or unnerved by the news. 

‘"The jubilee must be to celebrate the fiftieth 
birthday of the new Wellington — began Mar- 
garet, after an interval of silence. ‘^Do you sup- 
pose — she began again and then broke off. 

‘‘Suppose what?’' asked the inquisitive Judy. 

“Oh, nothing. It would seem rather unfeeling 
to put in words what I had in my mind. I think 
ril leave it unsaid.” 

There was a silence and again came that cold 
clutch at Molly’s heart. She felt pretty certain 
that Margaret had started to say : 

“Do you suppose, if Professor Green dies, it 
will interfere with the jubilee?” 

“If there is a jubilee,” suddenly burst out Judy, 
who had been lying quite still with her eyes closed. 


GOOD NEWS AND BAD 15 

they do give it, we shall be at the head and 
front of it being seniors, and I already have a 
wonderful suggestion to make. Would it not be 
splendid to have an old English pageant? The 
whole college could take part in it. Think of the 
beautiful costumes; the lovely colors; the rustic 
dances and open air plays on the campus.’’ 

Judy’s eyes sparkled and her face was flushed 
with excitement. With her amazing faculty for 
visualizing, the spectacle of the pageant stretched 
before her imagination like a great colored print. 
She saw the capering jesters in cap and bells; 
ox carts filled with rustics ; the pageant of knights 
and ladies and royal personages ; the players ; the 
dancers 

'Tt would be too glorious,” she cried, beside 
herself from her inflamed imagination. 

The other girls, unable to follow Judy’s bril- 
liant vision, watched her with amused curiosity. 

'T should think you would remember that Pro- 
fessor Green was at his death’s door before you 


16 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
began making plans for a jubilee/’ admonished 
Nance. 

But Judy, too intoxicated with her visions to 
notice Nance’s reproof, continued: 

"'They would have it in May, of course, when 
the weather is warm and everything is in bloom. 
First would come the pageant ; then the king and 
queen and court would gather as spectators in 
front of all the various side shows ; morality plays 
and ” 

The picture had now become so real to Judy 
that her galloping imagination had leaped over 
every difficulty, as the hunter leaps the interven- 
ing fence rail. In a flash she had decided on her 
own costume, of violet velvet and silk — a gentle- 
man of the court, perhaps — when Molly, sitting 
pale and quiet beside the window, suddenly re- 
marked : 

‘'Miss Walker did look very serious this morn- 
ing, I thought. Just before chapel I saw her in 
the court talking to Dr. McLean. She must have 
had bad news then.” 


GOOD NEWS AND BAD 


17 


Judy’s inflated enthusiasm collapsed like a 
pricked balloon. She flushed hotly and relapsed 
into silence. Presently, after the others had de- 
parted to their rooms, she crept over to Molly 
and sunk on her knees beside her at the open win- 
dow. 

'1 didn’t mean to be such a brute, Molly, dar- 
ling,” she said. forgot about your being such 
friends with the Greens and I really am awfully 
sorry about the Professor. Will you forgive 
me?” 

^'You foolish, fond old Judy,” said Molly, slip- 
ping an arm around her friend’s neck. '1 only 
dimly heard your wanderings. I was so busy 
thinking of — of other things; sending out hope 
thoughts like Madeleine Petit. Poor Miss Green ! 
I wonder if she knows. She has been in Europe 
all summer. I had post cards from her every now 
and then.” 

Molly looked wistfully through the darkness in 
the direction of the infirmary. ''I wish I knew 
how he was to-night,” she added. 


18 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOE DAYS 

"Til go and inquire/’ cried Judy, leaping to 
her feet, eager to make amends for past offenses. 
She glanced at the clock. ""The gate isn’t locked 
until a quarter past to-night on account of the 
late train. There’ll be time if I sprint there and 
back.” 

""But, Judy,” objected Molly. 

""Don’t interfere, and don’t try to come, too. 
You can’t run and I can,” and before either of 
the other girls could say a word, Judy was out of 
the room and gone. 

‘"I don’t know what we are going to do about 
her, Molly,” Nance observed, as soon as the door 
had slammed behind that impetuous young 
woman, ""she’s worse than ever.” 

Molly shook her head silently. Suddenly she 
felt quite old and apathetic, like a person who 
has lost all ambitions and given up the fight. 

""I think I’ll turn in, Nance. Tm tired to 
death.” 

With silent sympathy, Nance turned down the 


GOOD NEWS AND BAD 19 

cover of Molly's little white bed and laid out her 
night-gown. 

It seemed an incredibly short time when Judy 
burst into the room again, too breathless to speak, 
her face scarlet with running. 

“I just did make it," she gasped presently. 
"'The night nurse said Professor Green was very 
ill, but that Dr. McLean was hopeful because of 
his strong constitution." 

"I feel hopeful, too. Thank you, Judy, dear- 
est," said Molly, drawing the covers up over her 
shoulders while Nance turned out the light. 


CHAPTER II. 


A TROUBLI:d SUNDAY. 

It was Sunday morning and Molly had been 
washing her head. She had spread a towel on 
the window-sill and now hung her hair out of the 
window that sun and wind might play upon her 
auburn locks. 

'T always heard it was better to dry the hair 
by the sun than by a fire; hot air dries up the 
natural oils/’ she observed to Nance in a muf- 
fled voice. 

Nance was engaged in the meditative occupa- 
tion of manicuring her nails. As she rubbed them 
back and forth on a chamois buflfer her thoughts 
were busy in far other fields. 

''Yes/’ she replied absently to Molly’s observa- 
tion. "I suppose you learned that from Judy’s 


20 


A TEOUBLED SUNDAY ^ 21 

new friend/’ she added, coming back to her pres- 
ent beautifying occupation. ''She’ll be introduc- 
ing rouge to us next,” Nance went on in a dis- 
gusted tone. 

Molly smiled and gave her hair a vigorous 
shake in the breeze. In the bright sunlight it 
sparkled with glints of gold as if a fairy wand 
had touched it. 

"No, I didn’t, really,” she answered. "I read 
it on the beauty page of a Sunday paper, but I 
knew it anyhow instinctively before I read it.” 

"Do you think her hair is naturally red,” asked 
Nance, punching the dull end of her orange stick 
into a sofa cushion with unusual force. 

"I suppose lots of people ask the same question 
about mine,” Molly answered evasively. 

"Never,” Nance asserted hotly. "I don’t know 
much about the subject but I do know that no dyes 
have ever been invented that could imitate the 
color of your hair.” 

"How do you know it, Nance, dear?” 


22 


MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 


'Well, because so many people would dye their 
hair that color. There would be no more drab 
browns like mine, or rusty blacks or faded tans.’’ 

"But, Nance, your hair is lovely. It’s smooth 
and glossy and fine and thick. Has that girl been 
talking to you about your looks ?” 

"They both have,” admitted Nance. "They’ve 
got me to thinking I’m plain but would be greatly 
improved if I wore a rat and waved my bang and 
did my hair in a bunch of curls in the back like 
Jessie.” 

"But Jessie’s hair curls naturally,” put in 
Molly. 

"Yes, of course, and mine doesn’t. It would be 
a fearful nuisance, but one can’t help listening to 
such talk when it concerns oneself. You know 
how Judy does run away to things, and there is 
something convincing about Adele’s arguments.” 

"She’s very bright,” admitted Molly. "What 
do you think she wants me to do, Nance? Some- 
thing much worse than crimping.” 


A TROUBLED SUNDAY 


23 


'‘There is no telling. Probably lather your face 
with that horrible white-wash stuff called 'Youth- 
ful Bloom/ Judy was telling us about.’' 

"No, worse still. She says my face is too thin 
and that I am getting lines from nose to mouth. 
She wants me to have it filled.” 

Nance gave a wild whoop of derision. 

"Can’t you see Judy Kean’s head being stuffed 
with such nonsense until it bursts?” she cried, 
breaking off suddenly as the door opened and 
Judy herself appeared on the threshold. 

"May I bring in a visitor?” she asked stiffly, 
feeling from the sudden stillness that her own 
name had been under discussion. "Nobody likes 
to have her name bandied back and forth even 
between intimate friends,” she thought with some 
indignation. But Judy’s little fly-ups never lasted 
long and when Molly called out hospitably: "Yes, 
indeed, delighted,” and Nance said: "Certainly, 
Judy,” her sensitive feelings immediately with- 
drew into the dark caverns of her mind. 


24 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOE DAYS 

'Tve brought a friend up to see our rooms,” 
Judy went on, putting special emphasis on friend. 

Judy had introduced a new member to the Old 
Queen's circle and while that body was only ex- 
clusive in the matter of intelligence and good 
breeding, and the new member seemed to meet 
both requirements, still the circle as a whole was 
not entirely agreeable to Judy's latest find. 

The new girl had a very grand sounding name, 
‘'Adele Windsor,'' and Judy was hurt when Edith 
Williams demanded if Adele was related to ‘‘The 
Widow of Windsor.” Adele was certainly very 
handsome, — tall, with a beautiful figure, dark 
eyes and hair more red than brown. 

“She dresses with artful simplicity,” Margaret 
had remarked, but hardly a girl in college had 
handsomer clothes than Adele Windsor. 

Nobody could cast aspersions against her in- 
telligence, either. She had entered the junior 
class of Wellington as a special ; which was pretty 
good work, in the opinions of our girls. If any 


A TROUBLED SUNDAY 25 

name could be given to the objections they all 
secretly felt for Judy's new friend, it was that 
she was so excessively modern. She was a prod- 
uct of New York City; and so thoroughly up to 
date was this bewildering young person regard- 
ing topics of the day, from fashions and beauty 
remedies to international politics, that she fairly 
took the breath away even of such advanced per- 
sons as Margaret Wakefield. 

Adele now followed Judy into the room, and 
Molly, shaking back the hair from her face, 
bowed and smiled politely. Nance was not so cor- 
dial in her greeting. She had already prophesied 
what the history of Judy's friendship with this 
girl would be. 

‘'Judy will get terribly intimate and then aw- 
fully bored. I know her of old." 

“You're right in the fashion. Miss Brown," 
observed Adele, taking a seat near Molly and 
regarding her hair with admiration. 

“That's the first time anybody ever said such 


26 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOE DAYS 
a thing about me/’ exclaimed Molly with a 
laugh. ‘I’m usually three years behind. Now, 
you couldn’t mean this gray kimono, could you? 
Or maybe it’s my pumps,” she added. “I know 
low heels are coming back again.” Thrusting out 
one of her long, narrow feet, she looked at it 
quizzically. 

“No, no, it’s your hair,” replied Adele. “Red 
hair is the fashion now. You see it everywhere; 
at the theaters, in society, at the opera ” 

“You mean everywhere in New York,” cor- 
rected Nance. 

Adele smiled, showing a row of even white 
teeth. She was really very handsome. 

“Well, isn’t New York the hub of the world?” 
put in Judy. 

“No,” answered Nance firmly. “Boston and 
San Francisco and Chicago and St. Louis are just 
as much hubs as New York — to say nothing of 
the smaller cities. Any place with telegraph 
wires and competent people at both ends can keep 
up with the times nowadays ” 


A TKOUBLED SUNDAY 


27 


^‘Yes, but what about the theaters and operas/' 
Judy began hotly. 

‘‘And clothes," added Adele softly, with a quick 
glance at Molly's old blue suit which had been 
well brushed and cleaned that morning and hung 
on the back of a chair to dry. Molly had not even 
noticed the glance. She was looking across the 
campus in the direction of the infirmary and at 
the same time forming a resolution to go over and 
inquire for Professor Green as soon as she could 
arrange her tumbled hair. 

But Nance had caught the slightly contemptu- 
ous expression in Adele's eyes and resented it 
with warm loyalty. 

“I don't see what clothes have to do with it," 
she asserted. “Because in New York people look 
at one's clothes before they look at one's face, it 
doesn't follow that they are more advanced than 
people in other places." 

“New York only shows one how to improve 
one's clothes and one's face," put in Adele calmly. 


28 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

Nance felt somehow reproved by this elegant 
cold-blooded creature whom Judy had thrust upon 
them. And now Judy must needs take a flying 
leap into the discussion. 

'‘Nance, you are behind the times,’’ she cried. 
"There is no excuse now for women to be badly 
dressed or plain. Even poor people can dress in 
taste and there are ways for improving looks so 
that the most ordinary face can be beautified.” 

"Can you make little eyes big?” demanded 
Nance. 

"Don’t be silly,” said Judy. 

And it looked for a moment as if a quarrel 
were about to be precipitated between the friends, 
when Molly, glancing at Adele Windsor, began 
to laugh. 

"And all this because somebody said red hair 
was the fashion,” she said, but she had an un- 
comfortable feeling that Adele was fond of start- 
ing a fight in order to look on and see the fun, 
and she wished in her heart that her beloved Judy 


A TEOUBLED SUNDAY 


29 


had not taken up with such a dangerous young 
woman. She now tactfully changed the subject 
to the theater. 

Adele had signed photographs of almost all 
the actors and actresses in the country and could 
give interesting bits of personal history about 
many of them. Having launched the company on 
this safe topic, Molly seized the old blue suit and 
departed into her bedroom. Judy and presently 
Nance also were soon absorbed in an account of 
Miss Windsor's visit at the home of a famous 
actress. Molly, indeed, was careful to leave her 
door open a crack in order not to miss a word. 
After all, it was fun to live at ''the hub," as Judy 
called it, and know great people and see the best 
plays and hear all the best music. But this stun- 
ning metropolitan person did make one feel dread- 
fully provincial and shabby. She wondered if 
Adele had noticed the shabby dress. Molly 
sighed. 

"I don't think clothes would interfere so much 


30 MOLLY BBOWN’S SENIOK DAYS 
with my good times/’ she thought, ''if only I 
didn’t love them so.” 

Then she resolutely pinned on the soft blue 
felt, which at least was new if not expensive, 
slipped on her jacket and returned to the next 
room. 

"I’ll see you at dinner, girls,” she said. "Good- 
bye, Miss Windsor.” 

"I’m going to dinner with Adele at Beta Phi,” 
announced Judy. 

Adele occupied what the girls now called the 
"hoodoo suite” at Beta Phi. This was none other 
than Judith Blount’s old apartment, afterwards 
sub-let to the unfortunate Millicent Porter. 

"Shall Nance and I call by for you on the way 
to vespers, then?” asked Molly. 

"I’m not going to vespers. You don’t mind, do 
you, Molly?” 

Ever since they had been at college the three 
girls had kept their engagement for vespers on 
Sunday afternoons. They had actually been 


A TKOUBLED SUNDAY 


31 


known to refuse other invitations in order to keep 
this friendly compact. And Judy was breaking 
away from what had come to be an established 
custom. Of course, it was just this once and ab- 
surd to feel disappointed, only Molly, glancing 
over Judy’s head at Adele standing by the win- 
dow, had caught a glint of triumph in her eyes. 
What was she after, anyway? Did she wish to 
wean the tempestuous Judy from her old friends? 
The two girls exchanged a quick, meaningful 
look. 

"We’ll miss you, Judy,” said Molly, and went 
into the corridor, closing the door softly behind 
her. Hardly had she reached the head of the 
staircase, when Judy came tearing after her. 

‘"You aren’t angry with me, Molly, dearest?” 
she cried. “Adele and I have a wonderful scheme 
on hand. I’ll tell you what it is some day. Don’t 
you think she’s perfectly fine? So handsome — 
so clever 


“Yes, indeed,” answered Molly, trying to be 


33 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
truthful. ‘‘I hope you’ll have a beautiful time, 
Judy, but we’ll miss you just the same, especially 
on the walk afterwards. Had you forgotten 
about the walk?” 

‘'Oh dear, Molly, you are hurt,” ejaculated 
Judy, who couldn’t bear to be in anybody’s black 
books, yet, nevertheless, desired to have her own 
way. 

“I’m not, indeed, Judy. We can’t tie ourselves 
to Sunday afternoon engagements. Nance and I 
wouldn’t have you feel that way for anything.” 

The stormy Judy, calmed by these assuring 
words, returned to her rooms, while Molly hur- 
ried downstairs and across the campus toward 
the infirmary. 

A number of people had gathered at the door 
of the hospital. Dr. McLean’s buggy and a doc- 
tor’s motor car waited outside. There was an 
ominous look about the picture that filled Molly 
with dark forebodings. Most of the people in the 
group at the door were members of the faculty. 


A TROUBLED SUNDAY 33 

Miss Pomeroy, Miss Bowles and the Professor of 
French literature. They were talking in low 
voices. Dodo Green and Andy McLean leaned 
against the wall of the house, their hands thrust 
deep in their pockets, their faces the very picture 
of dejection. Molly began to run. 

‘'He’s dead !” a voice cried in her heart. “Oh, 
Dodo,” she exclaimed to the Professor’s young 
brother, who had run out to meet her, “please 
tell me quickly what has happened.” 

“The old boy’s had a tough time. Miss Molly,” 
said Dodo, struggling hard to keep his voice from 
breaking. “Pie had one of those infernal sinking 
spells about ten this morning. It was his heart, 
they say. It’s been something awful, just a fight 
to keep him alive. But he’s come through it. The 
doctor from Exmoor came over to help Andy’s 
father.” Dodo paused and gulped back his tears 
and Molly did not dare trust herself to speak. 

“Let’s walk a little way down the avenue,” he 
said presently. “I feel all bowled over from anx- 
iety and waiting around so long.” 


34 


MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 


know, I know, poor Dodo,^’ said Molly sym- 
pathetically. ‘'But he'll get well, now. Tm sure 
of it. The doctor said his fine constitution would 
carry him along." 

“The doctor was thinking of what Edwin used 
to be, say a year ago. The old boy has been 
overworking. The truth is," he added in a burst 
of confidence, “he got into debt somehow; bor- 
rowed money on prospects that didn't materialize, 
or something.'^ 

Instantly the thought of the comic opera came 
into Molly's head. 

“And he worked all summer without taking 
any vacation, night and day. Grace was abroad 
or she never would have allowed it. He just 
weakened his constitution until he was ready to 
take any disease that happened to be floating 
around." 

It was a great relief to Dodo’s pent-up feelings 
to talk and he now poured out his troubles to lis- 
tening, sympathetic Molly. 


A TKOUBLED SUNDAY 35 

‘‘Grace and I don't know what he wanted to 
use the money for " 

“Maybe it was for the opera." 

“No, I know for a fact it wasn't that infernal 
old opera, though writing it was one of the things, 
that pulled him down. But the debt's all paid 
now and the good old boy is lying at death's door 
as a result By the way," he added, drawing a 
key from his pocket, “Sister wants me to get 
something out of Edwin's office on the cloisters. 
Will you come with me. Miss Molly? There are 
such a lot of girls always in the court on Sun- 
day." 

“I only wish I could do more for you. Dodo," 
answered Molly, as the two young people hastened 
across the campus. 

“I guess you know as much about the old boy's 
office as I do. Miss Molly," said Dodo opening 
the study door. “I'm glad you came along to 
help me find what I am looking for." 

“What are you looking for?" 


36 MOLLY BHOWY’S SENIOR DAYS 

''Did you ever see a blue paper weight on his 

deskr’ 

"Oh, yes. Lots of times.'’ 

"Well, that's just what he wants. He's got a 
sort of delirious notion in his poor old head that 
he'd like that blue paper weight. It's enough to 
make a strong man shed tears, and he's so weak 
he couldn't pick up a straw. Alice Fern brought 
it to him from Italy." 

"Oh," said Molly. 

They found the blue paper weight in one of 
the drawers of the desk and Dodo thrust it into 
his pocket. There was a strong smell of over- 
ripe apples in the office and Molly presently dis- 
covered two disintegrated wine saps in the Japa- 
nese basket on the table. 

"We'd better take these," she said, seizing one 
in each hand and following Dodo into the corri- 
dor. 

The young people parted in the arcade and 
Molly went into the library and hid herself in one 


A TROUBLED SUNDAY 37 

of the deep window embrasures with a book she 
only pretended to be reading. That afternoon 
the Reverend Gustavus Larsen repeated the pray- 
ers for the sick, and Molly in a far back pew 
hoped that Nance could not see the tears that 
trickled down her cheeks. 


CHAPTER III. 


GOSSIP OVER the teacups. 

The gloom that had been hanging over Wel- 
lington since Professor Green’s illness gradually 
lifted as the young man steadily improved. Each 
morning Molly received the latest news from one 
of the nurses. Miss Grace was never visible. She 
was sitting up at night with her brother and slept 
during the day. One morning Molly encountered 
not the day nurse but Miss Alice Fern in the hall 
of the infirmary. She was dressed in white linen 
and might have been taken for a post-graduate 
nurse except that she wore no cap. Miss Fern 
had a cold greeting for Molly, and for Judith 
Blount, also, who presently joined them. 

''Edwin is much better,” she informed them. 

"He is seeing people now, isn’t he?” asked Ju- 
dith eagerly. 


38 


GOSSIP OVEK THE TEACUPS 39 

Miss Fern stiffened. 

she answered, '^only me — and his brother 
and sister, of course.’’ She added this as an 
afterthought. ‘It will be many weeks before he 
is allowed to see any of the Wellington people. 
The doctor is particularly anxious for him not to 
be reminded of his work. Excitement would be 
very dangerous for him.” 

“Is that what the doctor says or is it your ver- 
dict, Alice?” put in Judith, who had small lik- 
ing for the Professor’s cousin on the other side 
of the family. 

“I’m in entire authority here,” answered Miss 
Fern in such a hostile tone that Molly felt as if 
they had been accused of forcing their way into 
the sick room. “I am nursing during the day in 
conjunction with the infirmary nurse.” 

“Why don’t you wear a cap, Alice?” asked 
Judith tauntingly. “It would make you look 
more like the real thing.” 

With a hurried excuse, Molly hastened out of 


40 MOLLY BKOWN’S SENIOK DAYS 
the hall. It went against her grain to be involved 
in the quarrels of Alice Fern and Judith Blount. 
She was walking rapidly toward the village when 
she heard Judith’s voice behind her calling. 

'Wait, and Fll walk with you. I see you’re 
going my way. I had to stay and give a last dig 
to that catty Alice Fern,” she added breathlessly, 
catching up with Molly. 

Molly smiled. She didn’t know but that she 
agreed with Judith, but it was not her way to 
call people "cats.” 

"I’m so glad you arranged to take the post- 
grad., Judith,” she began as they started down 
the avenue. 

"Isn’t it great?” answered Judith exultantly. 
"It’s all Madeleine’s doing, you know. We’ve had 
a wonderful summer, Molly. Almost the first 
summer I can remember when I wasn’t bored.” 

"What have you two been up to?” Molly asked 
with some curiosity. The cloak of enthusiasm 
was a new one for Judith to wear and it was very 
becoming to her, Molly thought. 


GOSSIP OVER THE TEACUPS 41 

‘ ‘WeVe been making money/’ Judith announced 
with sparkling eyes. ‘Tve made almost enouo-h 
to carry me through another year here.” 

‘‘Goodness,” Molly thought, “how the world 
does change. Think of the proud Judith work- 
ing and then telling me about it, me whom she 
used to detest !” 

“It’s been jolly fun, too, and I didn’t mind the 
work a bit.” 

“I hope you made a great deal,” remarked 
Molly, not liking to ask too many questions but 
burning to know how money had been made by 
a girl who had once stamped her foot and de- 
clared she would never work for a living. 

“A friend of brother Richard’s, an actor, lent 
him his bungalow on the coast for the summer, 
and Mama and Madeleine and I spent four 
months in it, with Richard down for the week- 
ends. It was a pretty bungalow with a big living- 
room and a broad piazza at the back looking right 
out to sea, and Madeleine conceived the notion 


42 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOK DAYS 
of opening a tea-room there. Richard was will- 
ing and so was Mama and we started in right 
away. Madeleine had all sorts of schemes for 
advertising in the post office and at the general 
store, and at last we had a sign painted and hung 
out in front on a post. The coast road goes by 
the house and streams of automobiles are passing 
all day long, so that we began to have lots of 
customers immediately. I don^t know how it 
happened, but it was a sort of fashionable meet- 
ing place for all the people in the neighborhood. 
Pretty soon we had to buy dozens of little blue 
teapots and crates of cup and saucers and plates. 
Even Mama helped with the sandwiches and 
Richard, too, when he could come down. But you 
should have seen Madeleine. Every afternoon 
she put on a cap and apron and turned waitress. 
She served everybody. She was the neatest, 
quickest, prettiest little waiting maid you ever 
saw. Mama and I worked in the kitchen filling 
orders. Sometimes the sandwiches would give 


GOSSIP OVEE THE TEACUPS 43 
out and then Mama and I and Bridget, our Irish 
maid who has stayed with us through everything, 
would slice bread like mad. Madeleine knew doz- 
ens of different ways of making sandwiches. We 
used to make up dishes of fillings ahead of time 
and keep them on ice. Sometimes at night we 
were so tired weM simply fall into bed, but we 
succeeded beyond our wildest dreams and we had 
a splendid time in spite of the hard work.'’ 

'1 think you are wonderful," cried Molly. ‘T 
should never even have hoped to make anything 
like that go." 

^Tt's Madeleine who is the wonder," broke in 
Judith loyally. ''She has the brains and energy 
of a real genius." 

"Are you down at O'Reilly's this winter? I 
haven't seen either one of you to speak to be- 
fore." 

"Oh, yes, we have the same old rooms. I'm 
working up in two or three different subjects and 
taking a course in physical culture with a view to 


44 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
teaching it. You know, we are going to open a 
school, Madeleine and I 

‘Where?’’ demanded Molly, filled with interest 
in her old-time enemy’s schemes. 

‘We don’t know yet. It may be in the South. 
Madeleine has two more years here. I shall go 
to Paris next year for a course at the Sorbonne, 
so that I shall be up in French by the time we are 
ready to start.” 

Molly was almost too amazed over the change 
Madeleine had wrought in Judith to comment po- 
litely on the glowing future Judith mapped out 
for herself. She recalled how Judith had once in- 
sulted the little Southern girl at a Sophomore ball, 
and she remembered how Madeleine had said: 
“I shall make a friend of her, yet. You’ll see.” 

“I wish I could make plans and stick to them,” 
Molly thought. “How can I ever get anywhere 
when I don’t even know where I want to get? 
If I am not to teach school, then what am I to 
do?” 


GOSSIP OVER THE TEACUPS 45 

Many times a day Molly asked herself this 
question. There were times during the summer 
when she heard the call still infinitely far away 
to write, and on hot afternoons when the others 
were napping she would steal down to the big 
cool parlor with a pencil and pad. Here in the 
quiet of the darkened room, with strained mind 
and thoughts on tiptoe for inspiration, she would 
try to write, but the stories were crude and child- 
ish. Sometimes she would read over Professor 
Green’s letter of advice about writing. ‘'Be as 
simple and natural as if you were writing a let- 
ter,” he had said, and her efforts to be natural 
and simple were invariably elaborately studied 
and self-conscious. 

‘T don’t see why I want to do what I can’t 
do,” she would cry with despair in her heart, and 
then the next day perhaps she would try it again. 

So it was that Molly had a feeling of unrest 
that was quite new to her. It was like entertain- 
ing a stranger within the gates to admit this un- 


46 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
familiar spirit into her mind. And now, as she 
parted with Judith with a friendly handclasp, she 
felt the dissatisfaction more keenly than ever be- 
fore. 

Her errand in the village that afternoon was 
really to call on Mrs. Murphy, who, you will re- 
call, was once housekeeper for Queen’s. For 
many months the good soul had been laid up with 
rheumatism and for the sake of old times the 
Queen’s girls plied her with attentions. The 
Murphys now lived in a small cottage near the 
depot and they were exceedingly poor, since the 
office of baggage-master brought in only a small 
pay. But Mrs. Murphy, crippled as she was, her 
fingers knotted at the joints like the limbs of old 
apple trees, managed to keep her rooms shining 
with neatness. 

'‘And it’s glad I am to see you. Miss,” ex- 
claimed the good woman, much aged since the 
days at Queen’s. 

She led Molly through a little hallway into the 


GOSSIP OVER THE TEACUPS 47 
kitchen opening upon a small garden now bright 
with rows of cosmos, graceful and delicate in 
color, and brilliant masses of vari-colored, ragged 
chrysanthemums. 

'It’s the little Japanese lady that’s tended my 
garden for me all summer. Miss. She may be 
a haythen, but she’s as good as gold. Our Blessed 
Mother herself could not have been kinder.” 

Molly’s heart was filled with admiration for 
Otoyo, who instead of moping about by herself 
all summer had been making herself useful. 

"I’m ashamed,” she thought. "Madeleine and 
Judith and Otoyo all make me feel awfully 
ashamed.” 

In the meantime, Mrs. Murphy had spread a 
cloth on the little kitchen table and laid out her 
best cups and saucers. It was her heart’s delight 
to drink tea with the young ladies. 

"And how is the poor gintleman, Mr. Edwin, I 
mean ?” 

"He’s getting better every day, Mrs. Murphy.” 


48 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

'‘And Fm that glad to hear the news. It would 
have been a sad day for the poor young lady if 
she had lost him— though, may the Howly 
Mother forgive me for saying it, she^s not good 
enough for the loikes of him, Fm thinkin'.’’ 

"Let me pour the tea for you, Mrs. Murphy,’’ 
Molly interposed, taking the blue teapot out of 
Mrs. Murphy’s crippled hands after it had been 
filled with boiling water. "What young lady did 
you say it was ?” she asked presently, her eyes on 
a tea leaf swirling round and round in her cup. 

" ’Tis Miss Fern, the gintleman’s cousin, and 
they do say they’re to be married before spring. 
Fm not for sayin’ she ain’t pretty. Miss. She’s 
prettier than most and she’s kind to the gintle- 
man. Oh, you may be sure but she’s got a differ- 
ent set of manners for him ! And the day she had 
tea here with little Miss Sen and the Professor, 
she was all graces, to be sure. But another day 
she was here to meet him and little Miss Sen 
brought the message he could not come. It was a 


GOSSIP OVER THE TEACUPS 4‘J 
regular spitfire she was that day, Miss, and no 
mistake.’’ 

So that was why the Professor had wanted the 
blue paper weight. Perhaps there was some rea- 
son in his delirium after all. 

''Have you seen her. Miss?” asked Mrs. Mur- 

phy. 

"Oh, yes,” answered Molly. "I think she is 
very pretty. May I look at your garden, Mrs. 
Murphy? Dear little Otoyo, I can see her work- 
ing out here in the flowers. Don’t you just love 
her, Mrs. Murphy?” 

But the Irish woman had gone into the next 
room to get an old pair of shears. 

"I’ll take it as a favor. Miss Molly, if you’ll 
cut two bunches, one for yourself and one for the 
Professor, God bless him and the Saints preserve 
him for strength and happiness; though I ain’t 
sayin’ I wish him to be preserved for Miss Alice 
Fern, pretty though she be.” 

When Molly appeared at the hospital some half 


60 


MOLLY BKOWN^S SENIOE DAYS 


an hour later she made a picture the infirmary 
nurse would not soon forget. 

''These are for Professor Green from Mrs. 
Murphy/’ Molly said, giving the nurse the larg- 
est half of the bunch. 

The nurse gave her a long quizzical look. She 
was new at Wellington and not familiar with the 
girls. 

"Are you Miss Molly Brown?” she asked sud- 
denly. 

"Why, yes,” answered Molly, surprised. 

"I thought so,” said the nurse, and departed 
before the astonished Molly could say another 
word. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE SENIOR RAMBEE. 

‘^Ramblers, ramblers, 

Ramblers all are we : 

Life is gay, 

Life is free. 

Rambling all the day. 

“When the sun sinks to his rest. 

Our rambling days are gone. 

Seniors, Seniors, 

Sound the call! 

Back to Wellington 

“Did you put in the olives?'’ some one cried 
over the confusion of singing and talking. 

“Do be careful of the stuffed eggs. It would 
be a shame to ruin an hour and a half of hard 
work.” 

“Tell the man to wait. I forgot my tea basket.” 
“Haste thee, nymph,” called Edith Williamc, 


51 


52 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
after the fleeing Judy. ''And bring your volume 
of Shelley along, there's a dear. I forgot mine." 

"Bring my sweater," Nance called. 

Already the van load of girls in front was mov- 
ing down the avenue, while the crowd in the sec- 
ond van waited impatiently for Judy's return. 
The two big vehicles were decorated with laven- 
der and primrose, the class colors, for this was the 
day of the Senior Ramble, and the whole class 
was off for the woods. 

At last Judy appeared, laden with many things 
— a tea basket, a book, her camera and two sweat- 
ers ; also a brass trumpet. 

"Who says I'm not good-natured?" she ex- 
claimed, handing up the articles and clambering 
into the vehicle. "I'm the kindest soul that ever 
lived." 

"I'm glad you feel that way about it, Juliana. 
It must be a sweet personal satisfaction," re- 
marked Edith, seizing the book and thrusting it 
into the pocket of her ulster. 


THE SENIOR RAMBLE 53 

The seniors were to ramble in Fern Woods that 
year, so-called not because of the superabundance 
of ferns, but because they were a part of the es- 
tate of Major Fern, father of Alice Fern. The 
Major had no objections to the students of Wel- 
lington and Exmoor using his woods for picnics, 
but the Exmoor boys were not given to such ex- 
cursions and it was a long drive from Wellington, 
six miles over a rough road. However, Fern 
Woods it was to be this time, and away went the 
two vans, Judy blowing her trumpet with a grand 
flourish as they passed out of the Wellington 
grounds. 

The Ramble was always the occasion for the 
most childish behavior among the seniors ; a last 
frenzied outburst, as it were, before putting away 
childish things for all time and settling down to 
the serious work of life. 

And now the seniors in the first wagon stood 
up and began singing back to the girls in the sec- 
ond wagon: 


54 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

‘‘Seniors, do you hear the call? 

Great Pan has blest the day. 

Heed the summons, one and all, 

Voiilez vous danserf' 

The seniors behind answered : 

“We will make the welkin ring, 

Voulez vous danserf 
Sound the trumpet, shout and sing, 
Voulez vous danserf* 

“I think this should be called the ‘Senior Rum- 
ble,’ and not ramble,” some one said, as the wagon 
groaned and creaked on the hilly road. 

“What’s the matter with ‘Grumble’?” asked 
Mabel Hinton. 

But there was no real grumbling, although the 
six miles that lay between Fern Woods and Wel- 
lington included some rough roads. They were 
jolted and shaken and tumbled about and there 
were shrieks of laughter and cries of “Wait, wait ! 
I’d rather walk!” But the stolid driver went 
calmly on without taking the slightest notice. 

“One would think we were a lot of inmates in 


THE SENIOE EAMBLE 55 

a crazy wagon/’ cried Molly, wiping the tears of 
laughter from her eyes. 

A box of salted nuts had come open and the 
contents were scattered all over the bed of the 
wagon, and some apples had tumbled out of a 
hamper and were rolling about under people’s 
feet. 

‘Hf I had known — if I had only known that 
this was going to be the rocky road to Dublin, 
wild horses couldn’t have dragged me,” cried 
Jessie. 

At last after a time of infinite confusion the 
wagons drew up at the edge of a forest and there 
was sudden quiet in the noisy company. It was as 
if they stood at the threshold of a great cathedral, 
so still and majestic were the woods. Through 
the dense greenness of the pines there was an oc- 
casional flash of a silver birch. The scarlets and 
yellows of oak and maple trees gleamed here and 
there, making a rich background for the somber 
company of pines. 


56 MOLLY BKOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

was worth it ! It was worth it,” exclaimed 
the seniors, now that the worst was over. 

The class had divided itself into three ^'messes” 
for lunch. After lunch it was to assemble in a 
body, sing the class songs to be bequeathed to 
the juniors, and do the class stunts which were 
familiar enough to all of them now. And first 
of all, by the unwritten law of custom, the 
seniors were to spend an hour communing with 
nature. This constituted the ‘"Ramble.” Judy 
had been delegated by the Ramble Committee to 
blow a blast on her trumpet when the time came 
to eat. In the meantime the drivers had taken 
themselves and their wagons down the road two 
miles to a small village where they were to rest 
and refresh themselves with food until half past 
four o’clock, when they were to return for the 
rambling seniors. 

So it was that the three hampers of foo.d were 
deposited in a safe and secluded spot under some 
bushes and left unguarded while everybody went 
off for the ramble. 


THE SENIOR RAMBLE 


57 


Of course all this had been planned weeks 
ahead of time by the commktee and the destina- 
tion kept a profound secret, according to the tra- 
ditions of the school. 

Scarcely had the last unsuspecting senior dis- 
appeared in the pine woods, when a motor car 
rounded the curve in the road and stopped at the 
signal of an individual in a long dark ulster and 
a slouch hat well down over the face, who had 
leaped out from behind a clump of bushes on the 
other side of the road. Two other persons simi- 
larly disguised now jumped out of the car, leaving 
the chauffeur quietly examining the speedometer 
and seeing nothing. 

''Do you know where they put them?'’ whis- 
pered one. 

The other did not reply, but led the way at a 
run to the clump of bushes where the hampers 
had been left. In five minutes the three thieves, 
for such they certainly were, had stored the 
hampers on the floor of the car. Then they 
jumped in themselves. 


58 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOE DAYS 

‘^Go ahead!’’ cried the thief on the front seat, 
and presently the motor car was a mere speck in 
the distance. 

In the meantime, the unconscious seniors ram- 
bled happily on. There were places to visit in 
the woods: a beautiful spring that bubbled out 
of the side of a rock and broadened into a basin 
below; an old log cabin, long since deserted and 
open to the weather, and last of all, ‘^Charlie’s 
Oak.” Half a century ago, an Exmoor boy had 
hanged himself on this tree. Another Exmoor 
boy, many years later, had carved a cross on the 
tree and by that sign and others learned from 
Exmoor boys, they finally found the gruesome 
spot. 

‘Why did he do it?” asked Judy. 

“It was never told,” answered Nance, who had 
learned all there was to know concerning the 
tragedy from Andy McLean. 

“Poor boy,” cried Molly, seeing in her mind a 
picture of the body dangling from a lower limb 


THE SENIOE KAMBLE 59 

of the old oak. ‘Tret’s make him a garland of 
leaves/' she proposed, ''just to signify that we 
are sorry for him." 

The whole class now assembled at Charlie's 
Oak and proceeded to gather branches of autumn 
leaves. With the aid of a handkerchief and a 
ribbon, these were arranged in the semblance of a 
large wreath. On the fly leaf, torn from the vol- 
ume of Shelley, Judy wrote : 

"In memory of poor Charlie. May his soul 
rest in peace. Class of 19 — , Wellington." 

The wreath was laid against the tree and the 
inscription secured with a pin stuck into the bark. 
Then the Class of 19 — Wellington went on its 
way rejoicing, never dreaming of the reward the 
wreath of autumn leaves was to bring them. 
Perhaps the restless spirit of poor Charlie felt 
grateful for the sympathy and whispered into the 
ear of somebody — at any rate, luck came of the 
incident of the wreath. 

Not long after this, seniors roaming about 


60 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
the woods heard the blast of Judy’s trumpet. It 
was still too early for lunch and they felt instinc- 
tively that it was a call to arms. Presently wan- 
dering classmates came running up from every 
direction like a company of frightened nymphs. 

Just about this time an old gentleman, strolling 
down the wood path, paused at Charlie’s Oak. 
He was a very youthful looking old man, his 
cheeks as ruddy as winter apples and his blue 
eyes as clear and bright as a boy’s. He carried a 
cane which he used to toss twigs from his path. 
Two Irish setters followed at his heels sniffing 
the ground trodden down a little while before by 
the feet of numerous Wellington maids. 

'^Ahem ! What’s this ?” remarked the old gen- 
tleman aloud, fitting his glasses on his nose and 
leaning over to examine the wreath. Then he 
released the inscription from the pin and care- 
fully read it twice, replacing it afterward just 
over the wreath. Baring his head, he stood quite 
still under the limb for so long a time that the 


THE SENIOR RAMBLE 61 

impatient dogs trotted off down the path, and 
then came back again to look for their master. 

‘Toor Charlie,’’ repeated the old man. ‘‘May 
his soul rest in peace.” With a sigh he put on his 
hat and started slowly down the path. “Poor 
Charlie, poor old Charlie,” he was still saying, 
when he found himself on the edge of a company 
of very indignant and excited young women. 

“This must be the Class of 19 — Wellington,” 
he was thinking as he turned to go the other way, 
when Margaret Wakefield in the very center of 
the crowd thundered out : 

“It’s an outrage 1 A miserable, cowardly 
trick!” 

Some of the girls were actually crying; others 
looked grave, while still others conferred together 
in low indignant tones. 

“I beg pardon, young ladies, has anything seri- 
ous happened?” asked the old gentleman, lifting 
his hat politely. 

There was a complete silence at this unexpected 


62 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
interruption, and then Margaret, ever the spokes- 
man of her class, replied in a suspiciously tearful 
tone of voice : 

'WeVe been robbed, sir. Somebody has stolen 
our luncheon.’' 

‘'Dear, dear!” murmured the old gentleman, 
looking from one face to another with real sym- 
pathy, “dear, dear I but that was an unkind trick 
— and quite a large meal, too, I imagine,” he 
added, noting the size of the company. 

“Three hampers full,” cried one girl. 

“And we had worked so hard over it,” cried 
another. 

“Is this the Class of 19 — Wellington?” asked 
the old gentleman. 

“Yes, sir. We were giving the Senior Ram- 
ble.” 

“And while you were rambling thieves came 
and robbed you, eh ?” 

“We are disgraced,” ejaculated Margaret. 

“Do you suppose tramps could have done it?” 
Jessie asked. 


THE SENIOR RAMBLE 


63 


‘It would have been difficult to dispose of three 
hampers full/’ answered the old gentleman. “A 
tramp would have helped himself to what he could 
carry and nothing more.” 

“Could it have been Gypsies ?” suggested Judy, 
fired with the romantic notion. 

The old gentleman shook his head. 

“I think the thieves rode in a motor car,” he 
said. “As I crossed the road some little time ago 
I saw one waiting there for no apparent reason. 
I hardly noticed who was in it. Perhaps it was 
some of your own classmates. In my day the 
boys used to play tricks like that, worse ones, 
even. Exmoor was a lively place fifty years ago.” 

The old gentleman sighed. 

“Wellington girls play tricks, too, sometimes, 
but not such mean ones,” put in Margaret. 
“Once a girl cut the electric light wiring during 
an entertainment in the gym. But even that 
wasn’t so low as this : making a crowd of people 
go hungry.” 


64 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

‘^Ah, I see/^ answered the old gentleman. 
'Well, that is scarcely to be mentioned in the same 
breath with cutting wires.’’ He paused a moment 
and dug into the ground with the end of his cane 
thoughtfully. "Young ladies,” he said presently, 
"would you do an old Exmoor boy the honor of 
lunching with him to-day?” 

"Oh, how kind!” 

"So many of us?” 

"It’s too much,” a dozen voices answered. 

"Not at all. There could not be too many of 
you. I am Major Fern. I live down the road a 
bit. You can find the house by the big iron gates 
opening onto the avenue.” Major Fern looked at 
his watch. "It’s now a little past twelve. May 
I expect you at a quarter past one? Mrs. Fern 
will be delighted. There are — how many of 
you?” 

Margaret told him promptly. 

"That’s as small as an Exmoor class,” he ob- 
served. "An unusually small class. But — I’ve 


THE SENIOR RAMBLE 


65 


heard of you from Miss Walker — an unusually 
bright one, I understand. It will be a great pleas- 
ure to entertain so many charming young ladies 
at once.'' 

The girls were almost speechless with surprise 
and gratitude. Even Margaret was for once re- 
duced to a state of shyness. 

‘'We are very grateful to you, Major Fern," 
she said, after some hesitation, “and if you are 
sure it is not too much of an imposition, we accept 
with pleasure." 

So it was that Charlie's Oak was the indirect 
means of bringing the Senior Ramble of that year 
to a successful termination. 


CHAPTER V. 

Alyly’s that E:NDS WEIvL. 

‘Will somebody please inform me how they 
can get up a lunch for this crowd in an hour’s 
time?” asked Nance, who, having spent her life 
in the narrow quarters of a boarding house, was 
not accustomed to avalanches of unexpected 
guests. 

“Oh, I don’t think it will be very difficult,” 
Molly replied. “Major Fern is a farmer. He 
probably has lots of hams in the smoke house and 
plenty of eggs in the hen house and milk in the 
dairy and preserves and pickles in the pantry, and 
if there isn’t enough bread the cook can make up 
some hot biscuits or corn bread.” 

“I know it couldn’t embarrass you, Molly, dear. 
You’d be sure to find plenty of food for com- 
pany,” laughed Nance. 


66 


ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 67 
But Molly was not far wrong in her supposi- 
tions of the lunch that Major Fern unexpectedly 
called upon his wife and daughters and servants 
to prepare. Alice was the only member of his 
family who was not entirely cordial when the 
senior class of Wellington at last descended upon 
the big old farmhouse at lunch time. She had 
buttered and sliced bread until her back ached, 
and she cast many angry glances at her ruddy- 
faced father tranquilly slicing ham in the pantry. 

^‘There are times when Papa is a real nui- 
sance,'' she thought angrily. 

While Mrs. Fern pointed out piles of plates on 
the pantry shelf to a maid, her husband told her 
the history of the morning. 

"‘So you see, my dear," he finished, ''that this 
party is really Charlie's party. We are doing it 
for his sake. It would be just the sort of thing 
he would have done himself. I remember he 
brought his entire class home once to Sunday 
morning breakfast. He had invited them and 
forgotten to mention it to Mother." 


68 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 

‘'And they made a wreath for him?’' asked 
Mrs. Fern irrelevantly, as she wiped a tear from 
her eye. 

The Major blinked and went on slicing ham 
industriously. 

“It’s as fresh in my mind as if it had happened 
yesterday,” he said presently in a low voice. 

“How handsome and gay he was,” added his 
wife, sighing, as she counted out a pile of nap- 
kins. 

And now there came the sound of singing in 
front of the house. The seniors had arrived and 
were serenading the Major and his family. 
“Wellington, my Wellington,” they sang, and 
Mrs. Fern paused in her counting to listen to the 
song she herself had sung as a girl. 

“Listen to the children, they are serenading 
us. Major. Do come out with me and meet them.” 

The Major laid down his carving knife and 
fork and followed his wife to the front door, and 
presently the girls found themselves in the com- 


ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 69 
fortable, sunny parlor of the big old house that 
seemed to ramble off at each side into wings and 
meander back into other additions in the rear. 
They forgot their grievances in the fun of that 
lunch party. By the miracle which always pro- 
vides for generosity to give, there was plenty of 
lunch, just as Molly had predicted. 

‘fft wasn't a very difficult guess," she observed 
to Nance. “If you had lived in the country and 
were subject to unexpected arrivals, you'd know 
just how to go about getting up an impromptu 
meal for a lot of people." 

As for the good old Major, he was quite deter- 
mined to enjoy himself. He wanted to hear all 
the college jokes and songs. He even told some 
Exmoor jokes, and after each joke he laughed 
until his face turned an apoplectic red and the 
tears rolled down his cheeks. Mrs. Fern laughed^ 
too. She was an old Wellington girl and her 
eldest daughter, Natalie, had graduated from the 
college a year before Molly had entered. It had 


70 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOR DAYB 
been a great disappointment to Mrs. Fern that 
Alice, the youngest daughter, was not inclined to 
college and had gone to a fashionable boarding 
school. 

After the senior stunts, when Judy had suc- 
ceeded in throwing the Major into another apo- 
plectic fit of laughing by playing ‘‘Birdie's Dead" 
on the piano, it was time to go back to Fern 
Woods where they were to meet the wagons. 
While the girls were pinning on their hats the 
Major, in a voice husky from much laughing, 
asked Nance, as it happened to be, which girl 
had suggested the wreath he had seen at the foot 
of the oak tree. Nance pointed out Molly and the 
Major presently beckoned her to follow him into 
his library. Unlocking one of the desk drawers, 
he drew out a faded photograph. The picture 
showed a laughing, handsome boy not more than 
eighteen. His curly hair was ruffled all over his 
head as if he had just come in out of the wind, 
and his merry eyes looked straight into Molly's. 


ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 71 

‘^That is Charlie/’ said the Major, looking over 
Molly’s shoulder at the picture. ''My younger 
brother, Charlie. His death was the greatest sor- 
row I have ever known. Poor Charlie! Poor 
boy!” 

The old man turned away to hide the tears in 
his eyes and Molly laid the photograph back in 
the drawer. 

"Charlie would have enjoyed all this even more 
than I have,” went on the Major. "It would 
have been just what he would have done under 
the circumstances. I saw the wreath, you see, 
and it touched me very deeply.” 

"The girls will appreciate your kindness all the 
more when I tell them,” said Molly, not knowing 
how else to express the sympathy she felt. 

"Ah, well, it all happened half a century ago,” 
he said, shaking her hand and patting it gently 
at the same time. 

"He is a dear,” thought Molly, following him 


into the hall. 


72 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

She saw one other photograph in the Fern 
house that interested her. It was a picture of 
Professor Edwin Green, very elaborately framed, 
standing on a dressing table in one of the bed- 
rooms. 

Alice Fern kept well in the background while 
her mother and father and elder sister entertained 
the senior class of Wellington. She had done her 
duty by the lunch and she was not going to min- 
gle in this crowd of unknowns. 

never could bear a college romp,'’ she had 
said to her mother who had remonstrated with 
her daughter. 

'1 trust you don't call your mother a college 
romp,” answered the old lady indignantly. 

“Not at all. Mama. You belonged to the early 
days of Wellington before romps came into ex- 
istence,” Alice replied sharply. 

“I'm sure you may have to see a great deal of 

college, if ” began Mrs. Fern, and broke off 

abruptly. 


ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 73 

Alice shrugged her shoulders. 

‘‘If — if she thought. ‘‘How I detest that 

word.’' 

On the way back that afternoon the old Queen’s 
girls held a council of war. 

“I think we ought to make it our business to 
find out who played this trick on us,” cried Mar- 
garet, “if it takes detective work to do it. Our 
dignity as seniors has been attacked and the 
standards of Wellington lowered.” 

“I don’t believe any juniors had a hand in it,” 
put in Judy, “because we are so friendly with 
them.” 

Nance nudged Molly. 

“She’s afraid somebody’s going to blame that 
charming Adele,” she whispered. 

“If it’s any of the Wellington girls, it’s more 
likely to be among the sophomores,” announced 
Edith decisively. “They were rather a wild lot 
last year but we were too busy to notice them ; a 
good deal like a gang of bad boys in their own 
set ; always playing practical jokes ” 


U MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

''Yes, but would they dare play jokes on us?’’ 
interrupted Margaret. 

"They’d dare do anything, answered Edith. 
"Anne White is the ringleader. I only know her 
by sight so I can’t judge of her character, but 
I heard that Miss Walker had her on the grill 
several times last winter.” 

"What does she look like?” some one asked. 

"Why, she’s as demure as anything; a petite, 
brown-haired, inconspicuous little person. You’d 
never suspect her of being so daring, but I happen 
to know of one reckless performance of hers that 
Prexy hasn’t heard of.” 

"Do tell,” they demanded with breathless curi- 
osity. 

"You’ll let it go no farther? Word of honor, 
now?” 

"Word of honor,” they repeated in a chorus. 

"One night last spring she let herself down 
from the dormitory with a rope ladder and went 
— well, I don’t know where she went, but she got 
back safely enough ” 


ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 75 

''Up the ladder 

"No. That was the wonderful part. She 
simply waited till morning and when the gates 
were open slipped in in time for chapel.’’ 

The girls were rather horrified at this story. 

"It’s shocking,” the chorus exclaimed. 

"It does sound so,” went on Edith impressively, 
"if I didn’t happen to know that she spent the 
night with good old Mrs. Murphy, who told it to 
me herself one day in a burst of tea-cup confi- 
dence, and I never let it out to any one but Kath- 
erine until to-day. But it does seem the moment 
for telling it, if she did play that dastardly 
trick ” 

"But we aren’t sure it was Anne White,” put in 
Molly. 

"No, but it’s her style. She sent a girl a live 
mouse through the mail and she broke up one of 
the sophomore class meetings by putting ticktacks 
on the window.” 


"How silly,” ejaculated Mabel Hinton. 


76 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

''But what was she doing down on the campus 
and what did Mrs. Murphy think of being waked 
up at midnight ?’’ asked Judy. 

"It wasn’t midnight. It was only a little be- 
fore eleven and Anne told Mrs. Murphy she had 
done it for a lark. She was awfully frightened 
and Mrs. Murphy began by being shocked and 
ended by being kind-hearted. The ladder had 
slipped down and she couldn’t get up and she 
didn’t know what to do.” 

So it happened, that without meaning to be un- 
just, the seniors secretly blamed Anne White for 
the pillaging of their lunch hampers. But there 
was no evidence and they could only wait and be 
watchful, as Margaret expressed it. 


CHAPTER VI. 
rktort courteous. 

Because of the happy ending of the Ramble the 
seniors made no secret of the theft of the lunch 
hampers. If they had been obliged to go hungry, 
they would probably have kept the entire story to 
themselves. Such is human nature. When the 
story reached Miss Walker's ears, as most things 
about Wellington did sooner or later, she sent 
for Margaret Wakefield and got the history of 
the case from her in an exceedingly dramatic and 
well connected form. 

''And we had gone to no end of trouble. Miss 
Walker, and a good deal of expense," Margaret 
finished. "Lots of us had had cakes and pickles 
and things sent on from home." 

Miss Walker smiled. She could have named 
77 


78 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOR DAYS 
the contents of those hampers without any out- 
side assistance. 

'What none of us understands is where they 
took the hampers afterward. They couldn’t have 
brought them back to college without being found 
out.” 

"No,” answered the Principal, "that would 
have been impossible, of course, and yet the 
hampers have managed to find their way back.” 
Shifting her chair from the table desk, she pointed 
underneath. "So, you see,” she continued, "that 
the sandwiches and pickles and stuffed eggs and 
fudge may have found their way into college after 
all. Major Fern discovered the hampers. They 
had been tossed into a ditch near his place.” Miss 
Walker sighed and frowned. "If the Exmoor 
boys were given to this kind of thing, I might 
have suspected some of them. But the standards 
at Exmoor are above such things as this,” she 
indicated the hampers with a gesture of mingled 
disgust and pain. "If only — only I could bring 


THE EETOET COUETEOUS 79 

my Wellington to that point. But every year 
there is something.’' 

Margaret felt sorry for the Principal who had 
striven so hard for the honor of Wellington in 
the face of so many discouragements. 

‘Tt was a thoroughly silly and undignified act/’ 
she remarked later to the Queen’s crowd, telling 
them of the interview, ‘^to break up a time-hon- 
ored custom like the Senior Ramble by stealing 
all the food ; and I’m sorry for the girl who did 
it if she ever gets caught.” 

An effort had been made to find out if there 
had been any sophomore spreads the night of the 
Ramble with the stolen banquet, but these young 
women were either very wily or very innocent, for 
nothing was found against them. 

In the meantime, things went on happily 
enough at Wellington and there were no more 
escapades to wrinkle the President’s brow or en- 
rage the girls who happened to be the victims. 
Molly’s life was so filled with work and interests 


80 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR BAYS 
that she had little leisure for reflection, and about 
this time there came to her an unsolicited and 
entirely unexpected honor. She was elected sub- 
editor of the Wellington Commune, the fort- 
nightly review of college news and college writ- 
ings. Edith Williams, beyond a doubt the most 
literary girl in college, was editor-in-chief, Caro- 
line Brinton was business manager, and there 
was besides a staff of sj^ girls from other classes 
who gathered news and ran their various depart- 
ments. 

“I can't imagine why they chose me," Molly ex- 
claimed one afternoon to Edith, when the two 
girls were closeted in the Commune office. 

'‘For your literary discrimination," answered 
Edith. 

"But I think my themes are dreadfully crude 
and forced. I can't help feeling self-conscious 
when I write." 

"That's because you fry loo hard," answered 
Edith, who always spoke the brutal truth regard- 


THE EETORT COURTEOUS 81 

ing the literary efforts of her friends. ^Xet your 
thoughts flow easily, lightly,’’ she added, making 
a flowing gesture with her pencil to illustrate the 
gentle trickling of ideas from an overcharged 
brain. 

Molly laughed. 

''You remind me of Professor Green. 'Be sim- 
ple,’ was his advice — as if an amateur can be 
simple.” 

Edith, in the act of writing an editorial, smiled 
enigmatically. 

"It’s about as hard as getting a cheap dress- 
maker to make simple clothes,” she said. "Ama- 
teurs always want to put in ruffles and puffles.” 

The two girls were seated at the editorial desk. 
There was a pile of manuscript in front of Molly : 
themes recommended by Miss Pomeroy for pub- 
lication and contributed book reviews. Presently 
only the ticking of the clock on the book shelves 
broke the stillness. Both girls had plunged into 
work with a will. Edith’s soft pencil was already 
flying over the sheets. 


82 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOE DAYS 

'‘Flowing easily and lightly/’ Molly thought, 
smiling as she turned a page. 

For more than half an hour they worked in 
silence. At last Molly, having selected from the 
reviews the ones she considered best for publica- 
tion, leaned her chin on her hand and closed her 
eyes. How peaceful it was in this little office, and 
how nice to be with Edith who went at her work 
— this kind of work — with force and swiftness. 

Rap, rap, rap, came the sound of knuckles on 
the door, while some one shook the knob and the 
voice of Judy called : 

“Let me in, let me in, girls, Fve got something 
to show you that will make your blood boil.” 

“Run away, we’re awfully busy,” answered 
Edith, who kept the door to the private office 
locked. 

“I tell you it will make your blood boil with 
rage and fury,” went on the extravagant Judy. 
“As editors of the Commune ^ everybody calls on 
you to resent an insult to college. Please let me 
in,” she pleaded. 


THE RETOET COURTEOUS 83 

Molly opened the door and her impetuous friend 
rushed in, waving a newspaper. 

‘‘Be calm, child. Don’t take on so. Sit down 
and tell us easily and lightly and flowingly what’s 
the matter,” she said. 

“Look at this base, libelous article,” Judy ejac- 
ulated, spreading the paper on the table. 

With an expression of amused toleration as of 
one who must bear the whims of a spoiled child, 
Edith drew the paper in front of her while Molly 
and Judy seated themselves on the arms of her 
chair and read over her shoulders. 

The first things that caught their eyes were the 
pictures: drawings of wildly disheveled beings 
in gymnasium suits playing basket ball and 
hockey. One picture, also, represented a blousy 
looking young person in a sweater, carrying a 
bundle of linen under one arm and a bottle of 
milk under the other. In still another this same 
blousy model was yelling “Hello” to her twin 
sister across the page. They saw her again in 


84 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
the drug store dissipating in chocolate sundaes; 
and once more, chewing gum; hobnobbing with 
the grocery boy, too, or perhaps it was the bag- 
gage man or the postman. The article occupied 
a full page under flaring headlines : 

^^THE PRESENT DAY COLLEGE GIRL 
NO LONGER A PLEASING FEMININE 
TYPE. SHE IS VULGAR, AGGRESSIVE, 
SLANGY. COLLEGES FOR GIRLS THE 
RUIN OF AMERICAN HOMES— So says 
Miss Beatrice Slammer, the popular writer and 
well-known anti-suffragist.’’ 

‘Tt’s ironic, untrue and insulting,” observed 
Edith, in a choking voice as her eyes traveled 
down the columns. 

''She seems especially hard on poor girls who 
have to get their own meals,” broke in Molly. "Is 
there anything unfeminine in getting a bottle of 
milk from the corner grocery, I wonder? Or 
saying good-morning to the postman or Mr. Mur- 
phy? What would Miss Slammer think of us if 
she knew how often we had tea with Mrs. Mur- 
phy and Mr. Murphy, too?” 


THE RETOET COURTEOUS 85 

‘'She recommends colleges for women to pat- 
tern themselves after a Fifth Avenue school that 
teaches manners before it teaches classics/^ burst 
out Judy. ‘T wonder if she went to that school?’' 

“She is evidently opposed to higher education 
for women,” remarked Edith. “The style of her 
writing shows that as much as her sentiments do.” 

“I know one thing,” cried Judy, “this settles it. 
I’m going to join the Woman’s Suffrage Society 
to-day. If this is the way an anti thinks. I’m for 
the other side.” 

Edith and Molly laughed. 

“It’s an excellent reason for changing your 
political views, Judy,” said Molly. 

And now the office of the Commune was be- 
sieged by numbers of students from the three 
upper classes. There were even one or two in- 
dignant freshmen present. Those who had re- 
ceived the article by the first mail had handed it 
to those who had not. Many of the girls had al- 
ready written letters in reply and sent them to be 


86 MOLLY BKOWN’S SENIOK DAYS 
published in New York papers. Would the edi- 
tors of the Commune do anything about the base, 
libelous article? Were these stinging falsehoods 
about college girls to be allowed to be scattered 
over the country without a single protest? 

‘'You may add my name to the Suffrage Club, 
Miss Wakefield,'" called a junior. 

“And mine." 

“And mine." 

So Margaret's list of converts swelled amaz- 
ingly that afternoon. 

Edith was enjoying herself immensely. 

“What funny creatures girls are," she said to 
Molly, still sitting on the arm of the editorial 
chair. 

The question was: how was the article to be 
answered? No doubt college girls everywhere 
were thinking the same thing; therefore, the Wel- 
lington girls would not like to be backward in 
coming forward. 

“I suppose all the other colleges will be an- 


THE EETORT COURTEOUS 87 

swering the article in about the same way/’ said 
Margaret. 'T wish we could think of something 
original and different. Something more personal 
than a letter to a newspaper.” 

‘‘She speaks on anti-suffrage, doesn’t she?” 
asked Edith. 

“Oh, yes,” cried Margaret. “She is evidently 
one of those women who believes she can stem the 
tide of human progress by taking a stand against 
higher education and universal suffrage. Do you 
think women like that are ever silent? They are 
always standing on the street corners trying to 
lift their little puny voices above the multitude — 
but who hears them ?” 

There was a burst of laughter at Margaret’s 
eloquence. 

“Why not ask her to speak here?” suggested 
Edith. 

“What good would that do ?” 

“Besides, she wouldn’t come.” 

“Oh, yes she would. Wait until all this blows 


88 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOK DAYS 
over and then send her the invitation. People 
who write like that always want to talk.” 

''But how will we get any personal satisfaction 
out of it ?” Margaret asked. 

"Well, by showing her what perfect ladies we 
are, in the first place. We can be very attentive 
and still 'freeze’ her. We can entertain her with- 
out talking to her any more than is necessary, and 
we can listen to her speech and make no com- 
ments.” 

After consideration of the suggestion, most ol 
the girls began to see a good many possibilities in 
this courteous revenge. They were taken with 
the notion of inviting Miss Slammer into the en- 
emy’s camp and treating her as a guest too hon- 
ored to be familiar with. It was agreed that the 
invitation should be dispatched in about two 
weeks, so that Miss Slammer would feel no sus- 
picions. 


CHAPTER VIL 


A stoi.i:n visit. 

One morning not long after the stormy meet- 
ing in the Commune room, Molly, racking her 
brain over “The Theory of Mathematics,’' heard 
Otoyo’s tap at the door. She knew it was the 
little Japanese. Nobody else could knock so 
faintly and still so distinctly. 

“Come in,” she called, and Otoyo glided in as 
softly as a mouse. 

“You are much busy, Mees Brown?” she asked, 
retreating toward the door when she saw Molly 
bending over her book. 

“Oh, I can spare a few moments for a dear 
little friend any day,” answered Molly. “What’s 
happened ? Nothing wrong, I hope ?” 

The Japanese girl appeared excited. Her eyes 


89 


90 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
shone with more than their usual luster and she 
seemed hardly able to keep back the news she had 
to tell. 

''No, no, nothing wrong. Something very 
right. My honorable father is coming to Welling- 
ton to see his humble little daughter. O, I am so 
happee!’' and Miss Sen executed a few steps of 
the "Boston,"’ she had lately learned to dance. 
Molly watched the plump little figure gliding 
about the room and smiled. What a dear, funny 
little person Otoyo was. 

"I am so glad. How joyful you must be. 
When is he coming, Otoyo?” 

"He has arriving ” Otoyo broke off quickly. 

Excitement always strangely affected her Eng- 
lish. "He has arrived now in New York and he 
will come here to-morrow for the end-week.” 

"Week-end, you mean, child. Now, what shall 
we do to amuse him besides showing him the 
sights? Wouldn’t you like us to give him a dance 
or a fudge party or something?” 


A STOLEN VISIT 


91 


Otoyo clasped her hands joyfully. 

‘Tt will be enough for my honorable father to 
see all the beautiful young American ladees and 
the buildeengs. He will not require of his humble 
daughter amusements. He is much grateful to 
young ladees for kindness to little Otoyo. My 
honorable father will be thankful to you.’^ 

'Terhaps you would like us to go with you to 
the train to meet him?’’ Molly suggested, won- 
dering why Otoyo still lingered, now that she had 
unburdened herself of the good news and had 
seen plainly that Molly was very, very busy. But 
no, Otoyo thought so many young ladees at once 
might embarrass her honorable parent. She 
would prefer to bring him to call at No. 5 Quad- 
rangle on Sunday afternoon if entirely accept- 
able. 

It would be acceptable. They would all be de- 
lighted and the crowd would be there to receive 
the honorable gentleman. And now, Molly was 
sure Otoyo would go. But Otoyo had something 


92 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
else on her mind, evidently. Molly sighed. Not 
for worlds would she hurt her small friend’s feel- 
ings, but she did wish she had put a busy sign on 
the door. It had been such a perfect time to study, 
with Nance at a lecture and Judy practicing bas- 
Jcet ball. 

'Will Mees Brown do me one great beeg 
favor V began Otoyo with some embarrassment. 

"Yes, indeed. Anything.” 

It appeared that Otoyo was very anxious to 
call on Professor Green and she wished Miss 
Brown to go with her. 

"You have seen the honorable Professor?” she 
asked innocently. 

"No, I have been to inquire every day, but Miss 
Fern told me he was not permitted to see visi- 
tors.” 

For the first time in their acquaintance Molly 
saw Otoyo show signs of real displeasure. 

"Mees Fern?” she repeated. "She cannot say 
no and yes. It is for the nurse to say.” 


A STOLEN VISIT 93 

Molly admitted that she had not seen the nurse. 

'‘Then you will come?’’ cried Otoyo, with al- 
most as much enthusiasm as she had shown over 
the coming visit of her honorable father. 

"But ” began Molly. 

"You will so kindlee go this afternoon?” broke 
in the voluble little Japanese. “Will four o’clock 
be an hour of convenience ?” 

"I really don’t ” began Molly again. 

"You said ‘anything,’ ” interrupted Otoyo. 
"You will not go back on poor little Japanese? 
You will come?” she finished, cocking her head 
on one side in her own peculiarly irresistible man- 
ner. 

Molly glanced at the clock. She had already 
lost nearly twenty minutes of her precious study 
hour. 

"Very well, little one, come for me at four,” she 
said, and Otoyo fairly flew from the room before 
Molly could change her mind. Out in the cor- 
ridor Miss Sen danced the Boston again, just a 


94 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
pas seul to express her happiness. Of course 
Mees Brown should never know that she had just 
that moment come from seeing the great Pro- 
fessor. 

At four o'clock Otoyo again appeared at the 
door of No. 5. It was pouring down rain, but 
she had no intention of releasing Molly from her 
promise. In her miniature rain coat and jaunty 
red felt hat, she looked like a plump little robin 
hopping into the room. 

''You are readee?" asked Otoyo. 

"Why, I never dreamed you would go in the 
rain !" began Molly, looking up from her writing. 

Otoyo's face lengthened and the corners of her 
mouth drooped disconsolately. 

"Why, bless the child! Molly, aren't you 
ashamed to disappoint her?" cried Judy from the 
divan where she was resting after her athletic 
labors. 

"Why, Otoyo, dear, I didn't know you were so 
keen about it. Of course I'll go," said Molly re- 


A STOLEN VISIT 95 

morsefully, fumbling in the closet for her over- 
shoes, while Nance calmly appropriated Judy’s 
rain coat from the back of a chair where that 
young woman had flung it and held it up for 
Molly to slip into. 

‘'Better take my umbrella,” she said. Molly 
had never owned a rain coat and couldn’t keep an 
umbrella. 

“You know we may not be allowed to see him,” 
Molly observed, when the two girls had started 
on their wet walk down the avenue. “Miss Fern 
distinctly told Judith Blount and me one day that 
he was not to see any one except the family. The 
doctor particularly did not wish him to see stu- 
dents who would remind him of his work and 
worry him.” 

“Mees Fern know too much,” said Otoyo, mak- 
ing what she called a “scare face” by wrinkling 
her nose and screwing up her mouth. “Mees 
Fern veree crosslee sometimes.” 

“Adverbs, adverbs, Otoyo,” admonished Molly. 


96 MOLLY BLOWN'S SENIOR DAYS 

“Excusa-me/’ said Otoyo. 'Mt is when I be- 
come a little warm here in my brain that I grow 
adverbial/' 

Molly laughed. In her heart there was a secret, 
unacknowledged feeling of relief that she was 
going to try to see Professor Green in spite of 
Miss Fern. It was a relief, too, to find herself 
in the outdoors after her long vigil of study. The 
rain beat on her face and the fresh wind nipped 
her cheeks until they glowed with color. 

"‘You are much too small and feeble to come out 
in all this weather, Otoyo," she said, slipping her 
arm through her friend's. “You are so tiny you 
might easily fall into a puddle and drown." 

“Ah, thees is notheeng," cried Otoyo. “In 
Japan it rains — oceans ! And for so long. Days 
and days without refraining from." She was 
very apt to use big words instead of smaller ones, 
her own language being exceedingly formal and 
grandiose. “Notheeng is dry. Not even within 
the edifices." 


A STOLEN VISIT 


97 


‘'Houses, Otoyo.” 

“But a house is an edifice, is it not so?” 

“Oh, yes, but we wouldn’t use such a showy 
word.” 

Otoyo was still puzzling out why the longer 
word was not the better when they reached the 
infirmary. The regular nurse of the infirmary 
who usually sat in the waiting room was not vis- 
ible to-day. A freshman was ill and she was 
probably busy, Otoyo explained. 

“Who is looking after the Professor?” Molly 
asked. 

Miss Fern, it appeared, assisted by the infirm- 
ary nurse, attended her cousin during the day, 
and his sister nursed him at night. Having im- 
parted this information in a loud whisper, Otoyo 
started upstairs on tiptoe, Molly following. Some- 
how, she felt quite courageous and not at all 
afraid of Miss Fern, with the little Japanese to 
lead her on. 

All the doors were closed in the corridor above 


98 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOR DAYS 

and on the ward room door hung a sign, ‘‘No 

Admittance/’ 

“She must be quite ill,” whispered Molly. 

“She has a taking disease,” answered Otoyo. 
“Like this.” And she puffed out both jaws to the 
roundness of the full moon. 

Molly stifled a laugh. 

“Mumps, do you mean ?” 

Otoyo nodded. 

“It was so called to me by the honorable nurse,” 
she added gravely. 

The two girls lingered a moment in the hall. 
Molly was opposed to rapping on the Professor’s 
door, but Otoyo, amiably but unswervingly per- 
sistent in attaining her ends, gently tapped on the 
door. 

“Come in,” called Professor Green’s voice, 
weak almost beyond recognition. 

Otoyo peeped into the room. 

“He is alone,” she whispered, and with that she 
pushed Molly through the door with arm of steel. 


A STOLEN VISIT 99 

‘T will keep watch for ten minutes without. Then 
I will call.^’ She closed the door and Molly found 
herself looking fearfully through the dim shad- 
ows cast by half-drawn green blinds, at an emaci- 
ated face on the pillow. Her pulses throbbed and 
she wanted very much to cry. Indeed, it required 
almost superhuman effort to keep back the tears. 
Was this emaciated, wax-like face on the pillows 
her Professor's? 

"T'm afraid I ought not to be here," she began 
in a low voice. 

‘Tf you leave I shall cry," said the Professor. 
‘Won't you come nearer ?" 

Molly crept over to the bedside and stood look- 
ing down into the changed face. Only the brown 
eyes seemed the same. She choked and tried to 
smile. One must be cheerful with sick people, and 
she hoped the Professor would think it was the 
rain that had wet her cheeks. 

“Shake hands, Miss Molly," said the Professor, 
lifting one transparent hand and then dropping it 
weakly. 


100 MOLT.Y BROWN'S SENIOR DAYS 

With an impulse she could hardly explain she 
knelt beside the bed and put her hand over his. 

^‘You are much better?'’ she whispered. 

'T\\ soon be well, now," he replied. "‘But Tve 
been on a long journey. It seemed endless — so 
many mountains to climb and rivers to cross — 

such impenetrable forests " he paused and 

shook his head. “I was beginning to get very 
tired and lonely, too — it’s dismal taking the jour- 
ney alone — but I’ve come to the end now — it’s 

over ’’ again he paused and smiled. ‘I’m 

glad to find you at last. I’ve been looking for 
you a long time.’’ 

“I would have come sooner* but they — but she 
said no one was to see you.’’ 

“The nurse?’’ 

Molly shook her head. 

“My sister?’’ 

“No, Miss Fern.’’ 

“I never was so bossed in my life ’’ a sud- 

den strength came into his voice. “These 
women !’’ he added in a tone of disgust. 


A STOLEN VISIT 


101 


The door opened and Otoyo’s voice was heard 
saying in a loud whisper. 

'"The ten minutes have passed away.’’ 

‘"Good-bye,” whispered Molly. 

“Will you come again?” he asked. 

She nodded and tiptoed hurriedly out of the 
room. She had caught a glimpse of the blue 
paper weight on the table during that stolen in- 
terview. 

“No wonder Miss Alice Fern is so bossy with 
him,” she thought. “I suppose she has a right 
to be.” Molly sighed. Somehow she wished she 
had not seen the blue paper weight. It had 
spoiled all the happiness in the visit, except of 
course her happiness over his recovery. 

When the two girls reached the head of the 
stairs, the door to the ward opened and the nurse 
looked out. She exchanged a smiling nod with 
Otoyo. 

“Why, Miss Sen, you naughty little thing, I 
believe this visit was all arranged beforehand,” 
exclaimed Molly. 


102 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

But Miss Sen only laughed and not one word 
of excuse or explanation would she give. 

''Otoyo, you are as deep as deep ’’ Molly 

began. 

But Otoyo pressing closely to her side, looked 
up into Molly’s face and smiled so sweetly it was 
impossible to scold her. 

‘'You are very kindlee to humble little Japa- 
nese girl,” she said. “Better than all the 
young ladies of Wellington, I like you best, 
Mees Brown. There is no one so good and so 
beautiful ” 

“You outrageous little flatterer, you are chang- 
ing the subject,” cried Molly. 

“With all my honor, I give you assurance that 
I speak trulee.” 

“You make me very happee, then,” laughed 
Molly, “but what has that got to do with Pro- 
fessor Green?” 

“Did I say there was any connecting?” asked 
Otoyo innocently. 


A STOLEN VISIT 


103 


And so Miss Sen, unfathomable and still guile- 
less, never explained about the stolen visit, and 
Molly Brown, baffled and still glad in her heart, 
had to think up any explanation she could. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


BARBED ARROWS. 

‘1 don’t know which was the most highly pol- 
ished, his manners or his shiny bronze face,” 
ejaculated Judy when the door of No. 5 had closed 
upon Otoyo and her honorable father. 

The small grizzled Japanese gentleman had 
taken tea American fashion with his daughter’s 
Quadrangle friends. With punctilious enjoy- 
ment he had eaten everything that was offered to 
to him, cloudbursts, salmon sandwiches, stuffed 
olives and chocolate cake. The girls had heard 
that raw carp was a favorite Japanese dish, and 
salmon being the only fish convenient, they had 
bought several cans of it in the village in honor 
of the national taste. 

''Wasn’t his English wonderful?” put in Mar- 


104 


BARBED ARROWS 


105 


garet. ‘'He said to me, ‘I entertain exceedingly 
hopes in my daughter’s educationally efforts.’ ” 

“He asked me if I were quadrangular,” 
laughed Edith. “I said no, quadrilateral.” 

“The funny part of it was that he used all those 
big words and spoke with such a perfect accent 
and yet he didn’t understand anything we said,” 
observed Molly. “All the time I was telling him 
how much we loved Otoyo and what a dear clever 
child she was, he blinked and smiled and said: 
‘Indeed. Is it truly? Exceedingly interest- 
ingly.’ ” 

While they were laughing and discussing 
Otoyo’s father, Adele Windsor, Judy’s new 
bosom friend, walked into the room. She had 
formed a habit of entering their room without 
announcing herself, an unpardonable breach of 
etiquette at Wellington, as well it might be any- 
where. Lately she had made herself very much 
at home at No. 5, lounging on the divan with a 
novel between lectures, or occupying the most 


106 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
comfortable chair while she jotted down notes on 
a tablet. Nance called her ''the intruder’' to 
Molly, and once she had even ventured to remark 
to Judy: 

"I should think your friend would know that 
it’s customary to knock on a door before open- 
ing it.” 

"It’s because she’s never had any privacy,” ex- 
plained Judy apologetically. "She was brought 
up in a New York flat and slept on a parlor sofa 
all her life until two years ago when her father 
began suddenly to make money.” 

"Being brought up in a parlor ought to give her 
parlor manners,” Nance thought, but she had not 
voiced her thought to the sensitive Judy, who 
really had not intended to force Adele Windsor 
on her chums. It was only that Adele had a way 
of taking for granted she was persona grata, that 
Nance thought was rather too free. 

Molly, always polite to guests whether wel- 
come or not, greeted Adele cordially and made 
her a cup of tea. 


BARBED ARROWS 


107 


'We were just discussing Otoyo Sen’s funny 
little father,” she explained, in order to draw 
Adele into the conversation. "He’s been here to 
call — the queerest English!” And Molly re- 
peated some of Mr. Sen’s absurd speeches. 

Adele listened with interest. She was always 
interested in everything, one might almost say 
inquisitive, and she had a peculiar way of making 
people say things they regretted. Judy, artless 
soul, had told her everything she knew long ago. 
And now, turning her intelligent dark eyes from 
one to another and occasionally putting out a 
pointed question, Adele succeeded in starting a 
new discussion on Otoyo’s father. With the most 
innocent intentions in the world, they imitated his 
voice and manner, his stiff formal bows and his 
funny squeaky laugh. 

It was not until later when the friends had 
scattered to tidy up for supper that Molly felt 
any misgivings about having made fun of Otoyo’s 
father, and these she kept to herself, feeling, in- 


108 MOLLY BROWN'S SENIOR DAYS 
deed, that they were unworthy of her. Adele had 
not left with the others. She was to remain for 
supper with Judy, and the two girls sat chatting 
together while Molly took a cat-nap and Nance 
began clearing away the tea things. 

‘'You shall not help,’' she had insisted, when 
Molly had offered to do her share. “You are 
dead tired and I’m not, so go and rest and don’t 
bother.” 

Nance’s manner was often brusquest when she 
was tenderest, but Molly understood her per- 
fectly. She was very tired. What with her new 
duties on the Commune , club meetings and the 
pressure of studies, the world was turning so fast 
she felt that she might fly off into space at any 
moment. 

“Professor Green would have scolded me for 
trying to overdo things,” she was thinking, half 
sadly. Gradually her body relaxed and her eye- 
lids dropped. Through the mists of half con- 
sciousness she heard the musical rattle of the tea 


BAEBED AREOWS 


109 


things, and presently there came the catchy, 
rather nasal tones of Adele’s voice over the clat- 
ter of china and silver. 

‘'I like all your friends, Judy. They are re- 
markably bright.’’ 

‘‘Aren’t they a sparkling little coterie,” an- 
swered Judy proudly. 

“Now, Miss Wakefield is a born leader. Of 
course a leader must have the gift of gab. She’s 
a great talker, isn’t she? Takes the conversation 
right into her own hands and keeps it there, 
doesn’t she?” 

“Margaret does talk a lot,” Judy admitted. 

“Too much perhaps for any one not deeply in- 
terested, but then of course I always am. Now, 
Edith Williams is the brighter of the two, but 
she knows it, don’t you think so ?” 

“Well, I suppose she does,” replied Judy reluc- 
tantly. 

“Katherine has more surface brightness, but 
of course she’s superficial, that is, compared with 
her sister.” 


110 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

“Edith is the brightest/' said Judy. 

“Mabel Hinton is all right, but she does dress 
so atrociously. And those glasses! Can you 
imagine how she can wear them ?" 

Molly felt suddenly hot. She flung the com- 
fort off and sat up impatiently. 

“I should think Judy would have sense enough 
to see she's being made to discuss every friend 
she has/' she thought. 

“The Intruder" had now commenced on pretty 
Jessie Lynch. “Awfully jolly to have so many 
beaux. Most men-crazy girls have none," she was 
saying, when Molly marched into the room. She 
had not decided what she was going to say, but 
she intended to say something. 

“How red your face is, Molly, dear," observed 
Judy carelessly. 

“And how fortunate that it's so seldom that 
way," went on the imperturbable Miss Windsor. 
“Red faces are not becoming to red heads, that 
is, generally speaking, but your skin is such an 


BARBED ARROWS 111 

exquisite texture, Miss Brown, that it doesn’t 
matter whether it’s red or white. Did you see 
where a girl had written to a beauty editor and 
asked for a cure for blushing? The editor told 
her that age was the only cure. Sometimes, how- 
ever, one gets very good suggestions off those 
pages, good hygienic suggestions, I mean.” 

And so Adele carried the conversation along at 
such a swift pace that Molly did not have the 
chance to say what she had intended. She had 
always regarded that kind of talk with supreme 
contempt: praise that tapered into a sting. 'Tt 
would have been more honest to have given the 
sting without the praise,” she thought, ‘'and less 
hypocritical and censorious.” 

It was Adele’s trick to make you agree with 
her, and if you did, lead you on to further and 
more dangerous ground, until you suddenly felt 
yourself placed in the awkward position of saying 
something unkind without having intended it. 

It was strange that Judy was so blind to this 


112 


MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOE DAYS 


trait of Adele’s. But then Adele was very attrac- 
tive. There was a kind of abandon about her 
that suited Judy’s style. They had a great many 
tastes in common. Adele was very talented and 
the two girls often went oflf on Saturday after- 
noon sketching expeditions together. 

''Nance, I’m ashamed of myself for thinking 
such things,” whispered Molly, on the way down 
to supper, "but there is something almost Mephis- 
tophelean about Adele Windsor.” 

"She-devil, you mean,” broke in Nance bluntly. 

Molly laughed. 

"Mephistophelean was more high sounding. 
Besides she’s just like Mephistopheles in 'Faust.’ 
She doesn’t speak right out, only whispers and 
suggests. Innuendo is the word, isn’t it? Some- 
times I’m really frightened for Judy.” 

"She is awfully crushed, but she’ll wake up 
soon enough. She always does,” answered Nance 
carelessly. 

But Molly had secret misgivings, in spite of 


BAEBED AEEOWS 


113 


Nance^s assurances, and furthermore, she was 
convinced that the crafty Adele was 'v}‘ell aware 
of these misgivings and that it gave her much 
private enjoyment to make Molly uncomfortable. 

^‘The trouble is I can’t fight her with her own 
weapons,” Molly thought. 'Tm not clever 
enough, and besides I wouldn’t if I could. After 
all, boys’ methods of settling disputes by drawing 
a circle and fighting it out are somehow much 
more honest. It would be worth a black eye and 
a bloody nose to lay forever all that innuendo and 
sly insinuation.” 

''She’s hypnotized Judy into putting her up for 
the Shakespeareans and the Olla Podridas,” said 
Nance. "And she’ll get in. Nobody will dream 
of blackballing her, you’ll see.” 

Molly compressed her lips into a firm red line 
and said nothing, but she was almost led to wish 
that school societies did not exist at all. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE SUBSTITUTE. 

Miss Walker had not failed to see the stinging 
article against women’s colleges written by Miss 
Beatrice Slammer for a newspaper, and when she 
recalled that Miss Slammer had recently spent a 
day at Wellington as a guest of the college under 
plea of gathering material, she felt somewhat 
embittered. When, therefore, it came to her ears 
that the students intended to ask Miss Slammer 
to Wellington ostensibly for the purpose of hear- 
ing her views on anti-suffrage, she smiled and 
said nothing to anybody except Miss Pomeroy, 
who had raised some objections. 

‘'Don’t worry over it, my dear,” said Miss 
Walker, “they won’t do anything to make us 


114 


THE SUBSTITUTE 115 

ashamed. It’s Miss Slammer who will be 
ashamed, I rather imagine.” 

Perhaps Miss Slammer was surprised at re- 
ceiving an invitation from Wellington University 
after her lampoon of college girls. Whatever 
qualms she may have felt in writing it had been 
hushed to sleep with the insidious thought that 
the views, if not true, were at least sensational 
enough to catch the public eye; and this was 
more important to Miss Slammer than anything 
else. It flattered her to be asked to speak at this 
small but distinguished college. Of course they 
had never seen the article or they would never 
have sent the invitation. Miss Slammer had her 
doubts as to whether any person outside New 
York ever read a newspaper, especially a lot of 
college girls who had no interests beyond ama- 
teur plays and basket ball. So she promptly dis- 
patched a polite note of acceptance to ''Miss Julia 
Kean.” Then at the last moment, only a few 
hours before train time, her courage failed her. 


116 MOLLY BROWT^'S SENIOR DAYS 

‘‘I can’t do it/’ she said. ‘‘I simply haven’t the 
nerve.” 

‘'Do what?” asked Jimmy Lufton, glancing up 
from his typewriter to the somewhat battered and 
worn countenance of Miss Slammer. 

“Face a lot of women and talk to them about 
anti-suffrage.” 

Jimmy grinned. He had the face of a mis- 
chievous schoolboy. In his eyes there lurked two 
little imps of adventure while his broad and sunny 
smile was completely disarming. “Sunny Jim” 
was the name given him by his friends in the of- 
fice, a name that still clung to him after five 
tempestuous years of newspaper work. 

“Would you like a substitute?” he asked. “I 
think I could give some pretty convincing argu- 
ments.” 

“What do you know about it?” demanded Miss 
Slammer doubtfully. 

“Did you read the article that came out last 
Sunday — ‘Anti’s to the front, by a Wife and 


THE SUBSTITUTE 


117 


Mother/ That was me. I thought I gave a 
pretty fair line of argument.’’ 

"‘Jimmie, you are the limit,” exclaimed Miss 
Slammer. Then she paused and began to think 
quickly. Suppose Jimmy did go up to Welling- 
ton with a letter of introduction from her, and 
take her place? Well, why not? She was too ill 
to come, and had sent the well-known young 
writer on this vital subject. She would be keep- 
ing her engagement in a way, and Jimmy would 
be getting a holiday and perhaps material for 
another story at the same time. The editor’s con- 
sent was gained. “See if you can’t get something 
about basket ball,” he had ordered, and Jimmy 
dashed out of the office, the railroad ticket con- 
tributed by Wellington in one pocket and Miss 
Slammer’s note in the other. 

Miss Slammer’s nature was a casual one. Life 
had been so hard with her that she had long since 
grown callous under the blows of fate and grimly 
indifferent to other people’s feelings. Some- 


118 MOLLY BBOWWS SENIOR DAYS 
where she had heard that Jimmy Lufton was a 
born orator. At any rate, she thought he could 
carry off the adventure and her conscience was 
easy. 

At eight o’clock the next morning when the 
night train from New York pulled into Welling- 
ton station, a crowd of well-dressed young 
women on the platform gazed at the door of the 
Pullman car with expectant eyes. Judy Kean in 
a black velvet suit and a big picture hat headed 
the delegation. Only two passengers descended 
from the sleeper: a middle-aged, worn-looking 
woman in shabby black and a young man whose 
alert brown eyes took in at once the crowd of col- 
lege girls and Judy, resplendent in velvet and 
plumes. 

‘‘Miss Slammer?” began Judy, intercepting the 
woman passenger who was looking up and down 
the platform, somewhat bewildered. 

‘‘No, no, that is not my name. I am looking 
for Miss Windsor,” answered the woman nerv- 
ously. 


THE SUBSTITUTE 


119 


''Oh” said Judy, rather surprised. ‘‘You will 
find her at her rooms in the Beta Phi House. 
Take the ’bus up. It’s quite a walk.” 

The woman bowed and hurried over to the ’bus 
just as the young man with the alert brown eyes 
came up, hat in hand. Judy noticed at once that 
his head was large and rather distinguished in 
outline and that his close-cropped black hair had 
a tendency to curl. 

‘'You were looking for Miss Slammer?” he 
asked, speaking to Judy, whose face, as the train 
receded, showed mingled feelings of disappoint- 
ment and anger. 

"Oh, yes,” she replied, startled somewhat at 
being addressed by a strange young man. 

"She couldn’t come, and I came down as a sub- 
stitute,” he went on, handing her the note hastily 
dashed ofif by the intrepid Beatrice. 

Judy’s eyes only half took in the words of the 
note. She read it silently and passed it on to the 
rest of the delegation. 


120 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOR DAYS 

''A man!'’ she thought ‘'Now, isn't that too 
much? Everything is ruined. We can't teach 
Miss Slammer a lesson in politeness through a 
proxy.” 

“I hope it’s all right,” Jimmy began, watching 
Judy's face with undisguised admiration. 

“Oh, yes,” she answered hastily. “We are very 
glad to see you, Mr. Slammer ” 

Jimmy broke into his inimitable laugh. 

“My name is Lufton,” he said, and the mistake 
seemed so funny that Judy laughed, too, and 
everybody felt more at ease immediately. 

“We were to have had you up to breakfast — 
I mean Miss Slammer,” Judy stammered. 

“I'll get something — er somewhere,” said 
Jimmy in a reassuring tone. 

“There's an inn in Wellington village,” sug- 
gested one of the girls. 

“Miss Slammer was scheduled to speak at 
three o'clock this afternoon,” began Judy. 

“And am I banished to the village all that 


THE SUBSTITUTE 121 

time?'’ Jimmy broke in. ‘'You don't bar men 
from the grounds, do you? I'd like to look 
around the place a little." 

“I\"o, indeed. This isn't a convent. If you will 
come up to the Quadrangle after breakfast, we'll 
be delighted to show you the buildings and the 
cloisters — whatever would interest you." 

“Thanks, awfully," said Jimmy, and presently 
they watched him stroll off up the road to the vil- 
lage, whistling as gaily as a schoolboy. 

There were scores of faces at the windows of 
the Quadrangle when the special 'bus drew up at 
the archway. 

“She didn't come," Judy called to a group of 
girls lingering in the tower room. “A man 
came." 

“Young or old?" cried half a dozen voices. 

“Young and passing fair," said Jessie. 

“Passing dark, you mean. He had black hair." 

“But where is old Miss Slammer ?" demanded 
Edith Williams. 


122 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 

''Old Miss Slammer was afraid to face the mu- 
sic, I suppose. Anyway, she sent Mr. James Luf- 
ton down to take her place and he is at present 
breakfasting in the village."' 

"Somehow, all the sweetness has gone out of 
revenge!" exclaimed Edith. "I foresee that no- 
body will be willing to practice the 'freeze-out' 
on an innocent man, passing fair, if he is a sub- 
stitute." 

"Well, he's coming up this morning to be shown 
around college. If any one wants to take the job 
of showing him, I'm willing to resign my place. 
Anybody who is willing to do the 'freeze-out' act, 
I mean. I don't think it will be easy. He has a 
way of laughing that makes other people laugh. 
You couldn't be mean to him if you tried." 

Already, Judy had unconsciously set herself the 
task of protecting Mr. James Lufton from the 
fate planned for Miss Slammer. 

"Aren't we to listen in cold silence when he 
makes his speech ?" asked a girl. 


THE SUBSTITUTE 


123 


‘'Of course/’ put in Margaret, “you couldn’t 
listen in any other way to a speech against suf- 
frage. I shan’t applaud him, I know. If he 
represents Miss Slammer, like as not he shares 
her views about college girls, too, and is just as 
deserving as she is to a polite 'freeze-out.’ ” 

“It was a mad scheme from the first,” put in 
Katherine Williams. “I never did approve of it. 
I don’t imagine such a subtle revenge would have 
had the slightest effect on Miss Slammer.” 

“We intend to have our revenge,” cried a dozen 
voices, followers of Margaret. 

In the midst of the hot argument that followed 
this statement, Judy hurried off to Beta Phi 
House to eat her share of the fine breakfast some 
of the girls there had undertaken to give to the 
enemy of women’s colleges. She felt that things 
looked pretty black for Mr. James Lufton. Run- 
ning upstairs to Adele Windsor’s rooms, she 
knocked on the door impatiently. It was quite 
two minutes before it was cautiously opened by 


124 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOE DAYS 
Adele, whose face looked flushed and there were 
two white dents at the corners of her mouth. 

'1 heard she didn’t come,” Adele began, with- 
out waiting for Judy to speak. ''Let’s go down 
to breakfast. We’re late as it is.” She closed 
the door with a slam and pushed Judy in front of 
her toward the stairs. 

"By the way, did a visitor find you?” asked 
Judy. "She inquired where you lived at the sta- 
tion.” 

"Oh, yes. Just a woman — on business. About 
some clothes,” she added carelessly. "Dressmak- 
ers are dreadful nuisances sometimes.” 

Judy said nothing, but it occurred to her that 
Adele must be a very good customer for a dress- 
maker to come all the way to Wellington to con- 
sult her. 

While the Beta Phi girls and their guests were 
breakfasting in the paneled dining-room, the 
little woman in shabby black came softly out of 
Adele’s rooms and tiptoed downstairs. Under 


THE SUBSTITUTE 


125 


cover of the noise of laughter and talk she opened 
the front door and went out. Jimmy Lufton saw 
her later at the inn in the village where she had 
coffee and toast and inquired the hour for the 
next train to New York. Jimmy himself was oc- 
cupied in jotting down notes on an old envelope. 

'Tf it makes me laugh, I should think it would 
make them,’' he chuckled to himself. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE POEITE FREEZE-OUT. 

They had seen the cloisters and the library and 
the Hall of Science and all the show places at 
Wellington, and now Miss Julia Kean and Mr. 
James Lufton might be seen strolling across the 
campus in the direction of the lake. 

It was one of those hazy, mid-autumnal days, 
neither cold nor hot ; a blue mist clothed the fields 
and hung like a canopy between sun and earth. 

Judy had changed her best velvet for a walk- 
ing skirt and a red sweater and Jimmy Lufton 
glanced at her with admiration from time to time. 

‘It’s a mighty becoming way of dressing you 
young ladies have here,” he said. “Those sweat- 
ers and tarn o’ shanters are prettier to me than 
the finest clothes on Fifth Avenue.” 


126 


THE POLITE FEEEZE-OXJT 127 

‘‘Then you don’t agree with Miss Slammer?” 
asked Judy. 

“I probably don’t, but, as it happens, I never 
asked her opinion.” 

“You don’t know what Miss Slammer thinks of 
college girls, the way they dress and talk ?” 

Jimmy hesitated. As a matter of fact he had 
never seen the libelous article by Miss Slammer. 
He had been absent in a remote village in the 
mountains writing a murder trial when the article 
had appeared. Therefore he was not suspicious 
of Judy’s unexpected question. 

“I can tell you what I think of college girls,” 
he went on as they neared the edge of the lake. 
“I think they are the jolliest, most natural, inter- 
esting, wholesome, best looking, companion- 
able ” 

Judy began to blush. He was looking straight 
at her as he delivered himself of this stream of 
adjectives. 

“Would you like to canoe a little?” she asked, 
changing the subject. 


m MOLLY BEOWK’S SENIOR DAYS 

^'Would I/’ exclaimed Jimmy, with the sudden 
boyish expression that made his face so attractive. 

should rather think I would. I haven't had 
the chance to paddle a canoe since I left college." 

It was just the day for canoeing. The surface 
of the lake was as smooth as glass except where 
the paddles of other canoeists stirred its placid 
surface into little ripples and miniature waves. 

Judy thought it would be nice, too. She was 
enjoying herself immensely with this lecturer who 
looked like a boy without any of a boy's diffidence. 

‘‘Do you lecture often?" she asked, when they 
had settled themselves in the canoe and he was 
paddling with a skill she recognized as far from 
being amateur. 

“I don't mind making speeches," answered 
Jimmy. “I made a lot of them the last campaign. 
‘Cart-tair speeches they are called, only our cart 
was an automobile. There were four or five of 
us who toured the East Side and took turns talk- 
ing to the crowds." 


THE rOLITE FREEZE-OUT 129 

‘T should think you’d be a politician instead of 
a writer on anti-suffrage/^ remarked Judy. 

Jimmy grinned as he shot the canoe toward the 
center of the lake. 

‘Hs that what Fm credited as being he asked. 

"A well-known writer on the subject/ quoted 
Judy. 

‘If I had read that note over I think I would 
have been tempted to scratch out the ‘well- 
known/ '' he said, “especially as the only article 
I ever wrote was signed ‘A Wife and a Mother.' " 

Judy's eyes darkened. Was Miss Slammer to 
libel them and then send down an impostor to 
make fun of them? Her impressionable mind 
was as subject to as many changes as an April 
day and her recent pleasure in Mr. Lufton's so- 
ciety changed to displeasure as the suspicion 
clouded her thoughts. 

“You had a good deal of courage to come to 
Wellington, then," she observed after a pause. 
“At least we think you did after what Miss Slam- 


mer wrote about us." 


130 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

A hunting dog on the scent of quarry was not 
keener than Jimmy when it came to scenting out 
news, and it took about five minutes of careful 
and skillful questioning for Judy to explain the 
entire situation. 

‘'By Jove, but that was like old ‘Bee-trice’ to 
send me down here into a hornet’s nest,” he 
thought. “I’ll have to get square with them some- 
how before the lecture or it will never come off. 
I assure you I didn’t know anything about the 
article,” he said aloud to Judy. “I only came to 
accommodate Miss Slammer. She told me yester- 
day at the office she was ill.” 

“Then you aren’t a lecturer or a writer?” 
broke in Judy. 

“Miss Slammer and I work on the same paper. 
Didn’t she say that in the letter?” 

Judy shook her head. 

“I’m afraid you’ll think I’m an impostor, Miss 
Kean, but I had no intention of sailing under 
false colors. I think I’d better take the next train 


THE POLITE FEEEZE-OUT 131 

back to New York and give up the lecture. It 
would be better to run away before Fm frozen out, 
don't you think so ?" 

Judy was silent for a moment. Her rage 
against Mr. James Lufton had entirely disap- 
peared and she again had that feeling that she 
would like to protect him from the wrath to come. 

‘What is a ‘polite freeze-ouF exactly?" Jimmy 
asked. 

“Well, while you lecture, you are to look into 
rows of stony faces and when you finish, there is 
not to be a word spoken, not a single handclap, 
nothing but stillness as the girls file out of the 
hall." 

Jimmy laughed. 

“A sort of glacial exit, I suppose. It makes me 
chilly to think of it. Miss Slammer had a lucky 
escape." 

They were paddling now in the very center of 
the upper lake, but so absorbed were they in their 
conversation that they had scarcely noticed a ca- 
noe in front of them. 


132 MOLLY BEOWFS SENIOR DAYS 


Suddenly there came a cry, a splash and then 
a moment of perfect stillness followed by a con- 
fused sound of voices from the shore. The next 
instant Judy saw in front of them an upturned 
canoe and two heads just rising above the water. 
Before she had time to realize the danger, Jimmy 
Lufton had torn off his coat, flung his hat into 
the bottom of the canoe and, with a carefully 
planned leap, had cleared the side of the canoe, 
sending it spinning over the water, shaking and 
quivering like a frightened animal. And now 
Judy beheld him swimming with long strokes to- 
ward the place where the two heads had appeared, 
disappeared and once more reappeared. In that 
flash of a moment she had recognized the blonde 
plaits of Margaret Wakefield and the wet curls 
of Jessie Lynch. As she mechanically paddled 
toward the struggling figures, she remembered 
that Jessie could not swim a stroke and that Mar- 
garet could only swim under the most favorable 
circumstances in a shallow tank. 



Before she had time to realize the danger, Jimmy Lufton 
had torn ofif his coat . — Page 132. 


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THE POLITE FREEZE-OUT 133 

''He can’t hold them both up at once/’ thought 
Judy, with a throb of fear as she frantically beat 
the water with her paddle in her effort to reach 
them. 

For a moment Jimmy himself was in a quan- 
dary. It looked as if he would have to let one girl 
go to save the other, when he saw one of the ca- 
noe paddles floating within reach. He gave it a 
swift push toward the struggling Margaret. 

"Put that under your arms and go slow,” he 
shouted, and made for Jessie. In two strokes he 
had caught her by her coat collar and was swim- 
ming swiftly toward the upturned canoe. 

"Even in the water, Jessie’s irresistible attrac- 
tion had prevailed,” the girls said afterward when 
they could discuss this almost tragic event with 
calmness. 

"Hold on tight to the canoe, little girl,” he said, 
and turned toward Margaret, who was all but 
exhausted nov/. He caught her just as she was 
sinking, and held her up until a row boat from 


134 MOLLY BKOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
shore reached them. Margaret was pulled in, 
with much difficulty owing to her large bulk, and 
at last Jimmy, feeling a trifle weary himself, re- 
turned to Jessie and helped her into another boat. 
She was still sufficiently herself to achieve a smile 
of thanks to the handsome young man who had 
saved her life. 

It was all over in a flash, and yet it seemed as 
if the entire college of Wellington could be seen 
running across the campus to the lakeside. 

By the time the half-drowned trio reached land 
Miss Walker herself was there looking fright- 
ened and pale. The girls were to go straight to 
the Quadrangle, be rubbed down with alcohol and 
put to bed. As for the brave young man who had 
saved their lives, he was to be taken to the in- 
firmary where he could be made comfortable 
while his clothes were being dried. 

When Jimmy Lufton, dripping like a sea god, 
found himself in the center of a group of beauti- 
ful young ladies all eager to show him honor as 


THE POLITE FEEEZE-OUT 135 

they hurried him along to the infirmary, he gave 
a low, amused chuckle. 

hope Tve squared myself with them now,’^ 
he thought, ‘'and there’ll be no polite freeze-out 
for me and no lecture, either, thank heavens.” 

While a delegation of three went to the village 
inn and ordered his suit case sent up to the in- 
firmary, another delegation made him a hot lem- 
onade in the infirmary pantry, and a third went 
to the flower store in the village and purchased a 
huge bunch of violets. This was laid on his lunch 
tray with a card, “From the Senior Class of 19 — 
in grateful recognition of your brave deed.” 

And so the world goes. He who is down one 
day is up the next and Jimmy who was to have 
been the victim of a blighting freeze-out by the 
Wellington students was now an object of tender 
attention. 

There came to Mr. Lufton that afternoon a 
note stating that if he were quite recovered — 
(“Meaning my clothes,” thought Jimmy) — the 


136 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOE DAYS 
students of the Quadrangle would be glad to have 
him dine with them that evening at six-thirty. 

“I do feel like a blooming hypocrite/' he ex- 
claimed to himself remorsefully. ‘‘Here I came 
down to Wellington at their expense to give them 
a fake lecture and they are treating me like a 
king." 

But he accepted the invitation, trusting to luck 
that his clothes would be dry and tipping the in- 
firmary cook to press his trousers and black his 
shoes. 

At half past six, then, Jimmy appeared at the 
Quadrangle archway. He wore some of the 
violets in his buttonhole and his keen, dark eyes 
shone with suppressed humor. A delegation of 
seniors met him and conducted him back to the 
dining-hall, where several hundreds of young 
persons all in their very best stood up to receive 
him. A seat of honor was given to him at the 
end of the long table and every girl in the room 
liked him immensely, not only for his broad jolly 


THE POLITE FREEZE-OUT 13^ 

smile, but because at the end of dinner he arose 
and, without the slightest embarrassment, made 
the most deliciously funny speech ever heard. 
Then the walls resounded with the college yell, 
ending with ^'What^s the matter with Mr. Luf- 
ton? He’s all right. Who’s all right? Lufton 
— Lufton — James Lufton.” Never was one un- 
known and entirely unworthy individual more 
honored. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE WAYS OT PROVIDENCE. 

Providence had not gone to such lengths to 
bring Jimmy Lufton to Wellington and set him in 
the good graces of the college without some pur- 
pose. It was not only that he had been sent in 
time to save two prominent seniors from drown- 
ing, but Jimmy’s destiny was henceforth to weave 
itself like a brightly colored thread in and out of 
the destinies of some of Wellington’s daughters. 

Wherever Jimmy went he brought with him 
gaiety and good will. The sympathy and charm 
of his nature had made him so many friends that 
of himself did not know the number. And now 
he had come down to Wellington and made a host 
of new ones eager to show him how much Wel- 
lington thought of courage. 


138 


THE WAYS OF PEOVIDENCE 139 

On Sunday morning Jimmy not only met Dodo 
Green and Andy McLean, but he was led in and 
introduced to Professor Green, now sitting up 
against a back rest. There was an expression of 
ineffable happiness on the Professor’s face be- 
cause his bed had been moved near the window 
where he might catch a glimpse of the campus 
and of an occasional group of students strolling 
under the trees. Such are the simple pleasures of 
the convalescent. 

Furthermore, Jimmy had met Miss Alice Fern, 
immaculate in white linen, and now he was car- 
ried off to the McLeans’ to breakfast where he 
was to meet Molly Brown. 

This was Molly’s first glimpse of the famous 
hero. She had not gone down to dinner the even- 
ing before, having remained with Nance to min- 
ister to the wants of Margaret and Jessie. 

Nance and Judy were at the breakfast, too, and 
Otoyo Sen, and Lawrence Upton who had come 
over on the trolley from Exmoor. It was, in- 


140 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOE DAYS 
deed, a meeting of old friends and the genial 
doctor gave them a gruff and hearty welcome as 
they gathered in the drawing-room. 

^'Gude morning to you,’’ he said, rubbing his 
hands and beaming on them from under his 
shaggy eyebrows. 'Tm verra glad to see the lads 
and lassies once more. The wife was only saying 
last week that in another year they’d be scattered 
to the four ends of the earth. And is this the 
young lad who picked up the drowning lassies out 
of the lake? Shake hands, boy. It was a brave 
and bonny thing to do.” 

''Any man would have done it in my place, doc- 
tor,” said Jimmy, grasping the big hand warmly. 

"Not any man, but some would. Andy and 
Larry, I make no doubt, and that wild buffalo. 
Dodo.” 

Dodo didn’t mind being called a wild buffalo by 
the doctor if only he was given the credit of cour- 
age at the same time, but Mrs. McLean objected. 

"Now, doctor,” she said, "you mustn’t call your 


THE WAYS OF PFOVIDEKCE 141 
guests ugly names. You know I won't permit it 
at all." 

'‘Don't scold him, Mrs. McLean," said Dodo. 
"I think it's better to be called a wild buffalo than 
a wild boar." 

"A bore is never wild, if that's the kind you 
mean, answered Mrs. McLean. "That's why 
they are bores, because they are so tame." 

"Mither, mither," put in the doctor, laughing, 
"how you go on. As if you'd like 'em any way 
but tame. She's a great talker, Mr. Lufton, as 
you'll perceive before the morning's half over, 
but she doesn't mean the half she says, like every 
other woman under the sun." 

Jimmy laughed. How delightful it was to him 
to be among these gay, simple-hearted people who 
found a good deal of enjoyment in life without the 
aid of things he had been accustomed to. Pres- 
ently he heard Andy McLean's voice saying: 

"Miss Brown, Mr. Lufton," and turning 
quickly, he confronted a tall slender girl with 


142 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
very blue eyes and red-gold hair. Miss Brown 
smiled a heavenly smile and gave him her hand. 

'Tm glad to meet you/’ she said. 'I’ve been 
hearing a great deal about you in the last few 
hours.” 

The soft musical quality of her voice stirred 
Jimmy’s soul. 

"It’s like the harp in the orchestra. When a 
hand sweeps over the harp strings, you can hear 
it above all the trumpets and drums, it’s so — so 
ineffably sweet, only there’s never enough of it.” 

All this Jimmy thought as he exchanged 
Molly’s greetings. 

"Are you from the South ?” he asked later 
when he found himself beside her at the break- 
fast table. 

"I’m from Kentucky,” she answered promptly 
and proudly. 

"So am I,” he almost shouted, and then they ex- 
changed new glances of deeper interest and pres- 
ently were plunged in a conversation about home. 


THE WAYS OF PROVIDENCE 143 

Jimmy forgot that Judy, his sponsor at Wel- 
lington, sat at his right hand and Molly was 
oblivious to Lawrence Upton on her left. 

‘T suppose you never get any corn bread here 
Jimmy asked. 

‘‘Not our kind,’’ replied Molly. “What they 
have here is made of fine meal with sugar in it.” 

Jimmy made a wry face. 

“Wouldn’t you like to have some fried chicken 
with cream gravy?” he whispered. 

“And some candied sweet potatoes and corn 
pones and pear pickle,” Molly broke in. 

“And hot biscuits. But what shall we finish 
off with. Miss Brown?” 

“Brandied peaches and ice cream and hickory- 
nut cake.” 

Jimmy gave a delighted laugh. 

“That’s a good old home dessert I used to get 
at Grandma’s,” he said. “At least the peaches 
and the ice cream were. She always had cup-cake 
with frosted icing.” 


144 MOLLY BROAYN'S SENIOR DAYS 


‘‘Do you ever have kidney hash and waffles 
Sunday mornings, nowadays?” asked Molly. 

“I haven’t had any for years, Miss Brown. But 
at the restaurant where I get breakfast I do get 
‘batty’ cakes and molasses.” 

“ ‘Batty’ cakes,” repeated Molly. “How funny 
that is. Do you know I’ve always said that, too, 
just because I learned to say it that way as a 
child. And hook and ‘laddy’ wagon. I can’t seem 
to break myself of the habit.” 

“Don’t try,” said Jimmy. “I’d rather hear the 
good old talk than Bernhardt speaking French.” 

And so from food they came to discuss pro- 
nunciation, as most Southerners do sooner or 
later, and from that subject they drifted into mu- 
tual friendships and thence naturally into news- 
paper work. 

“I’m a sub-editor,” announced Molly proudly, 
and she told him about the Commune and her 
work. “Perhaps you’d like to see our office after 
a while?” she said. 


145 


THE WAYS OF PROVIDENCE 
be only too glad/’ said Jimmy, delighted 
to be able to prolong his tete-a-tete with this 
gracefully angular young woman with blue eyes 
and red hair, who spoke with the 'Tongue of 
angels” and had the same yearnings he did for 
corn-bread and fried chicken with cream gravy. 

And all this time something strange was tak- 
ing place in Judy’s mind that she could not under- 
stand. At first she thought she was catching the 
grippe. She felt cold and then hot and finally 
unreasonably irritated against everybody except 
Molly. At least, she put it that way to herself. 

"She never looked more charming,” thought 
Judy to herself. 

Molly in her faded blue corduroy skirt and blue 
silk blouse was a picture to charm the eye. Judy 
herself looked unusually lovely in her pretty gray 
serge piped in scarlet with Irish lace collar and 
cuffs. There were glints of gold in her fluffy 
hair and her eyes shone with unusual brightness. 
But Mrs. McLean’s good food tasted as sawdust 


146 MOLLY BKOWN^S SENIOK DAYS 
on her palate and the conversation of the eager 
Dodo sounded trite and stupid to her. Once she 
had said a word or two to Jimmy Lufton and he 
had turned and answered her politely and agree- 
ably, but as soon as he decently could he was back 
with Molly again deep in bluegrass reminiscences. 

There were other people who were disgruntled 
that morning at Mrs. McLean’s breakfast. Not 
Nance and Andy, who seemed well pleased with 
themselves and the bright fall day; not the doc- 
tor nor the doctor’s wife beaming at her guests 
behind the silver tea urn, but Otoyo was 
strangely silent and averted her face from Molly’s 
if by chance their glances met; looked carefully 
over Nance’s head and avoided Judy’s gaze as 
much as possible. Lawrence Upton, too, had lit- 
tle to say, except to Dr. McLean at his end of the 
table. 

So it was that half the guests thought the 
breakfast had been a great success and the other 
half put it down as stupid and dull. 


THE WAYS OF PEOVIDENCE 147 

‘Would anybody like to go over to the Com- 
mune office with us?’’ Molly vouchsafed some 
three-quarters of an hour later when the com- 
pany was breaking up. “I am going to show Mr. 
Lufton our offices.” 

But nobody seemed anxious to accept. 

“You’ll come, won’t you, Judy?” Molly asked. 

No, Judy had other things to do apparently. 

“Won’t you come, Otoyo, dear?” asked Molly, 
slipping her arm around the little Japanese’s waist 
and giving it a squeeze. 

“It is not possible. I am exceedingly sorrow- 
ful,” answered Otoyo a little stiffly and drew 
away from Molly’s embrace. 

“Aren’t you well, little one?” asked Molly. “Is 
anything the matter ?” 

“Oh, exceedingly, quite well, but I cannot go 
to-day, Mees Brown,” Otoyo answered, trying to 
infuse a little warmth into her tone. 

So it ended by Molly’s going off alone with 
the young man from New York to the Commune 


148 MOLLY BROWN'S SENIOR BAYS 
office, where she showed him their files and the 
proofs sent up by the printer in the village, which 
had to be corrected ; then she introduced him into 
the little alcove office where Edith was wont to 
write her famous editorials. 

‘'How would you like to write an article for 
my paper. Miss Brown Jimmy asked suddenly. 
“We run a page of college news, you know.’’ 

He had no idea that Molly could write or that 
the paper would take anything from her if she 
did. He had merely talked at random and was a 
little taken back when Molly clasped her hands 
joyously and cried : 

“Oh, and would they pay me ?” 

“Of course,” he answered, hoping devoutly in 
his heart they would. “I’ll tell you what you 
do. This is the Jubilee Year at Wellington, isn’t 
it?” 

“Yes; it’s been officially announced at last.” 

“Well, you could use that as a starter, with a 
little of the history of Wellington and the big 


THE WAYS OF PROVIDENCE 149 
festival youYe going to have, and then you could 
go on and give some talk about the girls, — what 
you do and all that. There could be pictures of 
the cloisters and the library, perhaps.’’ 

‘‘What a wonderful chance to answer Miss 
Slammer’s article,” Molly thought. “It’s just 
what we would have wanted and never dreamed 
of getting. It’s so kind of you,” she said aloud. 
“I would be proud to do it for nothing if the pa- 
per doesn’t want to pay ” 

“Oh, it’ll pay you all right if it takes the story. 
You may get anywhere from ten to thirty-five 
dollars for it.” 

“Why, that’s enough to buy a dress,” she ex- 
claimed involuntarily, and Jimmy decided in his 
heart that he would sell that article if he had to 
wear the soles off his boots walking up and down 
Park Row. 

“I suppose you’d like it simple,” said Molly. 

Jimmy laughed. 

“Well, we don’t like anything flowery,” he said, 


150 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
''but you write it the way you like and Til change 
it if necessary. Just tell about things as if you 
were writing a letter home.’’ 

"There it is again,” thought Molly. "First the 
Professor and now Mr. Lufton.” 

They finished the morning with a walk and 
Jimmy Lufton entertained Molly with a hundred 
stories about his life in New York, and then he 
listened to her while she talked about college and 
home and her hopes. 

At last they parted at the Quadrangle gates, 
where Andy McLean was waiting to take Jimmy 
home with him to dinner, and Molly saw him no 
more, since he was to catch the three-thirty train 
back to New York; but she had his address care- 
fully written on a scrap of paper and already the 
opening paragraph of the newspaper article was 
beginning to shape itself in her mind. She saw 
nothing of Judy until bedtime. Judy had been 
with her friend, Adele, she said. But when the 
two friends parted that night Judy flung her arms 


THE WAYS OF PKOVIDENCE 151 
around Molly’s neck and kissed her so tenderly 
that Molly could not help feeling a bit surprised, 
since only a few hours before Judy had seemed 
cold somehow. 

A few days after Jimmy Lufton had returned 
to New York he received six letters from the 
following persons: Margaret Wakefield, Senator 
and Mrs. Wakefield, Jessie Lynch, and Colonel 
and Mrs. Lynch. Any time James Lufton tired 
of his job he could get another from Senator 
Wakefield or Colonel Lynch. That was stated 
plainly in the letters of the two fathers. 

"'And air because of an anti-suffrage speech 
that was never made/’ thought Jimmy. 


CHAPTER XIL 


frie;ndi.y rivals. 

It is not often that rivals for the same office 
are champions for each other, and yet that is 
what happened when the seniors elected their per- 
manent president toward the end of October. It 
followed that Molly, as the most popular girl in 
the junior class, would be elected president the 
next year. 

''Of course you’ll get it,” Nance assured her 
as the time approached. 

"It’s a great honor,” replied Molly, "but, oh, 
Nance, I’m such a diffident, shy person with a 
shrinking nature ” 

"You mean,” interrupted Nance, "that Mar- 
garet wants it so badly, you can’t bear to deprive 
her of it.” 


15 ^ 


FRIENDLY RIVALS 153 

‘‘No, that isn't it. It's not sentiment, really, 
but I can't make speeches and I haven’t got the 
organizing nature." 

Nance shook her head. 

“You ought not to throw away gifts from the 
gods. It's as bad as hiding your light under a 
bushel." 

Nevertheless, Molly was sure she did not want 
the place and she hoped Margaret would get it. 
As for Margaret, the spirit of a politician and 
the spirit of a loyal friend were struggling for 
mastery within her soul. The girls knew by this 
time what sort of president she could make. They 
were well acquainted with her powers of oratory 
and organization. Nobody understood as well as 
she did the ins and outs of parliamentary law; 
how to appoint committees and chairmen and 
count yeas and nays; in other words, how to 
swing the class along in proper form. They 
knew all this, but hitherto it had been necessary 
to call it to their minds each year, when by the 


154 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
sheer force of oratory, Margaret won the elec- 
tion. 

But, as luck would have it, on the day set for 
the election Margaret, who had taken a deep cold 
from her upsetting in the lake, was too hoarse to 
say a word. It would have moved a heart of 
stone to see her, sitting in the president’s chair 
sucking a lemon, as she called the class to order 
in a husky tone of voice that had not the faintest 
resemblance to the organ she had used with such 
force for three years. 

There were only two nominations for the office 
of president, and it was difficult to judge toward 
which of the nominees the sentiment of the class 
leaned. Nance had nominated Molly, who had 
tried to drag her friend back on the bench. 

'‘Don’t you see they might think I had put you 
up to it?” Molly had exclaimed. 

"They never would think that about you, 
Molly,” whispered Nance, and promptly had an- 
nounced her candidate and the nomination was 


FRIENDLY RIVALS 155 

immediately seconded. Then Molly shot up 
blushingly and nominated Margaret Wakefield, 
almost taking the words out of Jessie’s mouth. 
Margaret smiled at her rather shamefacedly, 
knowing full well that she would not have nomi- 
nated Molly for that coveted office. 

Other nominations followed. Edith Williams 
and her sister were rival candidates for the office 
of vice president, and Caroline Brinton and Nance 
were put up for secretary. 

''Has anybody anything to say?” asked Mar- 
garet, still sucking the lemon frantically as a last 
effort to clear her fogbound voice. 

Molly stood up. 

"I think rd like to speak a few words. Madam 
President,” she said. Then, blushing deeply and 
trembling in her knees she turned toward the 
familiar faces of her classmates and began : 

"Pm not much of a speechmaker, girls, and I 
don’t know that I ever really addressed you be- 
fore, but I feel I must say something in favor of 


156 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
my candidate, Miss Margaret Wakefield, who 
has made us such an excellent president for three 
years/" 

There were sounds of hand-clapping and calls 
of^^Hear! Hear!"" 

Molly paused and cleared her throat. She did 
wish they wouldn"t interrupt until she had fin- 
ished. 

‘T think we ought to remember, girls, that 
when we elect a president for this last year, we 
are choosing some one to represent us for always ; 
at class reunions and alumnae meetings and all 
kinds of things. When there is a distinguished 
visitor, it"s always the senior president who has 
to step up and do the talking. The kind of presi- 
dent we want is some one with presence and 
dignity. We want a handsome president who 
dresses in good taste and can talk. Girls,"" 
— Molly raised her hand as if calling upon 
heaven to strengthen the force of her arguments, 
— ^Ve don"t want a thin, lank president without 


FRIENDLY RIVALS 


157 


any shape’^ (sounds of tumultuous laughter and 
the beginning of applause) — “one of those form- 
less, backboneless people who canh talk and who 
dress in — well, ragtags. I tell you, girls, Mar- 
garet is the president for us. She’s been a mighty 
fine president for three years and I don’t think 
we ought to try experiments on a new one at this 
stage in the game.” 

Then there came wild applause and Margaret 
presently arose and raised her hand for silence 
after the manner of the true speechmaker. She 
was much moved by what Molly had said. It 
was more than she herself would have been cap- 
able of doing, but she intended to speak now if it 
cracked her voice till doomsday. 

“I can’t talk much, girls, on account of hoarse- 
ness, but I do want to say that nobody could rep- 
resent this class better than Molly Brown, the 
most beloved girl not only of the senior class, but 
of all Wellington. I hope you will cast your votes 
for her, girls, and I’m proud to write down her 
name as my choice for president.” 


158 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

“Three cheers for Molly and Margaret/’ cried 
Judy, always the leader of the mobs. 

Edith, funny and diffident, now rose and ad- 
dressed the class. She said she sincerely hoped 
the class was not looking for handsome, plump 
vice-presidents, since the two candidates for that 
office were neither the one nor the other ; but that 
if they placed any confidence in a ‘Tag and a 
bone and a hank of hair,” she felt sure she could 
fill the bill just as well as the opposing candidate. 

Then Katherine shot up and said she could 
prove that she weighed a pound more than her 
sister, and instead of putting her allowance into 
books that autumn, she had laid in a stock of 
clothes. 

It was all very funny and good natured: the 
most friendly close election that had ever taken 
place, some one said, and when the votes were 
counted it was found that Margaret had won by 
one vote and Katherine by two in excess of the 
other candidates. Edith and Molly locked arms 


FKIENDLY EIVALS 159 

and rushed over to congratulate the successful 
opponents. 

‘‘You won it for me, Molly,’' announced Mar- 
garet in a voice husky as much from emotion as 
cold. “I doubt if I should have got half a dozen 
votes if it hadn’t been for your speech and I shall 
never forget it. It was what father calls ‘a nice 
thing.’ ” 

“You are the president for me, Margaret,” 
Molly laughed. “I can’t see myself in that chair, 
not in a thousand years. I should be all wobbly 
like a puppet on a throne and I’d probably slide 
under the table from fright at the first class 
meeting.” 

“You would have adorned it far better than I 
would, Molly, and popularity will outweigh 
speechmaking any day; not but what you didn’t 
make a fine speech.” 

But neither Edith nor Molly felt any regrets 
over the election. They had all they could do to 
attend to the Commune, go to society meetings 
and keep up their studies. 


160 MOLLY BPtOWN^S SENIOR DAYS 

That very day, too, there came a letter for 
Molly that added to her labors. Judy brought it 
up from the office below. She looked at her 
friend curiously, as Molly glanced at the address 
written in a rather large, scrawly masculine hand. 
In a corner of the envelope was printed the name 
of a New York newspaper. 

^^Corresponding already?’’ Judy asked. ‘^You 
lose no time, Molly, darling.” 

Molly was so much occupied in tearing open 
the envelope that she did not notice the strained 
tone in Judy’s voice. 

^T’m so excited,” she exclaimed, drawing out 
the letter. ‘'This will decide my fate.” 

“Are you ready, Judy?” called Adele Windsor, 
opening the door and walking in, in her usual un- 
ceremonious fashion. Her quick glance took in 
the envelope Molly had flung on the table in her 
haste to read the note. “Oh, these southern 
girls,” she remarked, raising her eyebrows and 
blinking at Judy. 


FKIENDLY EIVALS 


161 


Molly looked up quickly. It was certainly no 
affair of Adele’s and still she felt like making an 
explanation. 

''This is a business letter/’ she said quickly, 
the blood rushing into her face. 

"Do business letters make one blush?” Adele 
said teasingly. 

Molly could not tell why Adele irritated her so 
profoundly. She was ashamed afterward of 
what she called her unreasonable behavior. Cer- 
tainly she did not appear very well in the passage 
of arms that now followed. 

"It’s none of your business at any rate,” she 
exclaimed hotly, "and I’m not blushing.” 

After this outburst, she turned and walked into 
her room. Her face was crimson and she knew 
she would have wept if she had stayed another 
minute, and so have been further disgraced. 

"Really, Molly, don’t you think you are rather 
hard on poor Adele?” she heard Judy’s voice say- 
ing. But not a word of apology would she make 


162 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
to Adele Windsor, whose high nasal tones now 
came to her through the half closed door. 

‘'Never mind, I don't care, Judy. She can’t 
help it. Didn't you ever hear about the temper 
that goes with red heads ?" 

Molly paid for her outburst of temper by hav- 
ing a headache all the afternoon and an achey 
lump in her chest — indigestion, no doubt. 

She stretched herself on her little bed, her 
haven of refuge in time of trouble and the safe 
confidante unto whose soft bosom she poured her 
secrets and hopes. At last, calmed and remorse- 
ful for her hasty tongue, she opened the note 
again and reread it : 

“De^ar Miss Brown: 

“I have hypnotized the editor into accepting 
that article of yours; only you must hurry up 
with it. It will run probably for two and a half 
columns on the College Notes page and we can 
use three pictures. Just tell whatever you want 
about the college and the girls and what they do, 
starting off with the Jubilee, as I suggested. 
Send it to me here by Friday and I will appreciate 


FRIENDLY RIVALS 


163 


it. Thank you for the wonderful time you gave 
me at Wellington. 

^^Sincerely your friend, 

‘‘Jam^s Lufton.’' 

Late that afternoon Molly rushed over to the 
Commune office, and, seizing a pencil and paper, 
began to write. At the top of the page she wrote, 
‘‘Dearest Mother'’ — “just to make myself think 
it's a letter," she thought. But the words worked 
like a magic talisman, for the pencil traveled 
busily and by suppertime she had almost finished. 

On the way back from the village next morn- 
ing, where she had been to buy the photographs, 
she stopped at the Beta Phi House and left a note 
on the hall table for Miss Windsor. 

“I am sorry I was rude to you. I suppose red- 
headed people have got high tempers and hence- 
forth I shall try to curb mine." 


CHAPTER XIIL 


DROP OP POISON. 

Molly was very proud of her first newspaper 
article and exultant at being able to answ^er the 
unjust libels of Miss Slammer. She could 
scarcely wait to tell Nance and Judy about it, but 
decided to drop in at the infirmary and relate her 
triumph to the Professor if it was possible to see 
him. Alice Fern was on guard that morning, 
however, and the Swiss Guards at the Vatican 
could not have been more formidable. 

'Tm sure the Pope of Rome doesn't live a more 
secluded life," thought Molly as she departed. 

Glancing at the tower clock, Molly saw that she 
still had three quarters of an hour before the lec- 
ture on early Victorian Poets by the Professor of 
English Literature from Exmoor, who came over 


164 


THE DKOP OF POISOH 165 

several times a week to substitute for Professor 
Green. 

think ril run in and see Otoyo a few min- 
utes/’ Molly said to herself. ‘‘The girls can wait. 
There’s been something queer about Otoyo lately. 
She keeps to herself like a little sick animal. I 
can’t make her out at all.” 

There was no response to Molly’s knock on 
Otoyo’s door a few minutes later, and, after a 
pause, she opened the door and peeped in. 

The blinds had been drawn, an unwonted thing 
with the little Japanese, who usually let the sun- 
light flood her room through unshaded windows. 
But a shaft of light from the open door disclosed 
her seated cross-legged on the floor in front of a 
beautiful screen showing Fujiyama, the sacred 
Japanese mountain. At the foot of the screen 
she had placed two statues, one of Saint Anthony 
of Padua and one of Saint Francis of Assisi, 
presents from Mr. and Mrs. Murphy on two suc- 
cessive Christmases. And still another graven 


166 MOLLY BKOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
image caught Molly’s eye as she tiptoed into the 
room: a small figure of Buddha seated cross- 
legged. He was placed at a little distance from 
the two saints and his antique, blurred counte- 
nance contrasted strangely with the delicately 
molded and tinted faces of the new statues. 

If Molly had come unannounced upon Nance 
on her knees or Judy at her devotions, she would 
have beat a hasty retreat, but it came to her that 
Otoyo, sitting there cross-legged before the 
images of strange gods, needed help of some sort. 

“You aren’t angry with me for coming in, 
Otoyo?” she began. “I knocked and you didn’t 
hear. I’m afraid something is the matter. Won’t 
you let me help you? I have not forgotten how 
you helped me once when I was unhappy. Don’t 
you remember how you let me sit in your room 
and think over my troubles that Sunday after- 
noon at Queen’s?” 

Otoyo rose quickly, flushing a little under her 
dark skin, She seemed very foreign to Molly at 


THE DEOP OF POISON 167 

that moment, in her beautiful embroidered ki- 
mono of black and gold. Also she seemed very 
formal in her manner and distant, like an exiled 
princess who still clings to the dignity of her for- 
mer position. 

First she made a low Japanese bow, quite dif- 
ferent from the little smiling nods she had learned 
to give her friends at Wellington. 

‘*1 feel much honored, Mees Brown. Will you 
be seated and I will bring refreshments.” 

'"Why, Otoyo,” exclaimed Molly, filled with 
wonder at this new phase in her friend, don't 
want any refreshments. I thought Fd drop in 
for half an hour before English V. and find out 
what has happened to you. You never come to 
see me any more,” she added reproachfully. 
**Yon haven't been since that Sunday afternoon 
with your father, and you always have a ‘Busy' 
sign on your door. Are you really so busy or are 
you trying to avoid us?” 

Otoyo drew up her one chair she used for visi- 
tors and sat down again on the floor. 


168 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOE DAYS 

“I have been much engaged/’ she said, avoid- 
ing Molly’s eye. Molly noticed that her English 
was perfect She spoke with great precision and 
avoided adverbial mistakes with painful care. 

She had had a great deal to think about lately, 
Otoyo continued, and she was reading a book of 
Charles Dickens, the English novelist. It was 
very difficult. 

With an impetuous gesture, Molly rose and 
pushed the chair out of the way. Then she sat 
flat on the floor beside Otoyo, and took one of 
the little plump brown hands in hers. 

'‘Otoyo, you’re unhappy. Something has hap- 
pened and you’re praying to Catholic saints and 
Fuji and Buddha all at once. Isn’t it so?” 

"The saints are very honorable gentlemen,” 
answered Otoyo quickly. "Mrs. Murphy has 
told me many things of their goodness. And Fuji 
is the mountain that brings comfort to all Japa- 
nese people. Holy men dwell on Fuji and pil- 
grims climb to the summit each year to worship. 


THE DROP OF POISON 169 

And Buddha, he is a great god,’^ she added. “He 
is kind to lonely little Japanese girl.’’ 

As she neared the end of her speech her voice 
was as faint and thin as a sick child’s, but she 
steadily repressed all emotion, for no well-bred 
Japanese lady is ever seen to weep. 

“Otoyo, my dear, my dear, what can have hap- 
pened?” cried Molly, turning the averted face to- 
ward her so that she might look into the almond- 
shaped eyes. “I can’t bear to see you so miser- 
able. It makes me unhappy, too. Don’t you 
know that you are one of the dearest friends I 
have in the world and that we all love you ?” 

“It is not easy to believe that is true,” said 
Otoyo, looking at her with an expression of min- 
gled reproach and incredulity. “I cannot believe 
it is so, Mees Brown.” 

A look of utter amazement came into Molly’s 
face. It had never entered her head that Otoyo 
was angry with her. 

“What is that? Say it again, Otoyo. I can’t 
believe my own ears.” 


170 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR BAYS 

say it is not easy to believe that is true/’ said 
Otoyo, repeating her words with the precision 
of a Japanese. 

Molly rose to her feet, and grasping Otoyo’s 
hands pulled her up. 

can’t talk sitting on the floor, Otoyo. Come 
over here and sit on the bed where I can look at 
you. Now, tell me exactly what you meant by 
that speech.” 

The two girls now sat face to face on the bed 
and there was a look of sternness in Molly’s eyes 
that Otoyo had never seen there before. Otoyo’s 
eyes dropped before her gaze and she began 
plucking at the Japanese crepe of her kimono. 

‘‘You must speak, Otoyo,” Molly insisted. 

There was a long silence and then Otoyo looked 
up again. 

“It was my father, my honorable good father. 
I am too humble to care. But my noble father !” 

She rose quickly and walked across to the win- 
dow. If there were tears in her eyes Molly should 


THE DROP OF POISON 171 

not see them. Having drawn the blind, she drew 
a deep breath and came back to the bed. But 
Molly was doing some rapid thinking during that 
brief interval. Some one had been telling Otoyo 
that they had made game of her father — and 
that some one 

But Molly was too angry to think coherently. 

‘‘Otoyo,’" she beganj “you know how much all 
the Queen’s girls think of you. You are really 
our property, child. If any of us felt that we had 
hurt or grieved you, we would really never for- 
give ourselves.” 

“But my father, he was mock-ed. Of me it was 
of not much matter.” 

“Child, what we did was in innocent fun. It 
was only that we repeated his funny English, 
even funnier than yours, and we have often teased 
you about your adverbs, haven’t we ?” 

“Yes,” admitted Otoyo, “but this was made to 
be so cruel. It cut me ” she choked. 


“Who repeated it to you, Otoyo?” asked Molly 


172 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOE DAYS 
with sudden calmness, afraid to give rein to her 
indignation for fear of doing rash things. ‘'Peo- 
ple who tell things like that are quite capable of 
inventing them or at least making them much 
worse.’’ 

“I have given my word not to speak the name,” 
answered Otoyo. 

It was almost time for the lecture now and 
Molly slipped down on her knees b^eside the bed 
and put her arms around Otoyo’s waist. 

“Dear little Otoyo, before I go, I want you to 
tell me that you have forgiven us. None of us 
meant to be cruel or unkind. We are too fond of 
you for that. I shall tell all the other girls what 
has happened and to-night they will come in and 
make you an apology themselves. We will all 
come. As for the girl who made the trouble, she 
is a wicked mischief maker and I wish she had 
never come to Wellington. And now, will you 
say ‘Molly, I forgive you?’ ” 

“I do, I do,” cried Otoyo, her face transformed 


THE DPtOP OF POTSOH 173 

with happiness. should not have listened to 
her ugly speeches, but it was the way she did it. 
She told me my father had been mock-ed and ridi- 
culed. I was veree unhappee.’’ 

''Never, never let her get her clutches on you 
again,’’ said Molly, opening the door. 

"Never, never, never,” repeated the Japanese 
girl. 

It was a real reconciliation surprise party that 
took place in Otoyo’s room that evening. All the 
Queen’s girls were there except Judy, who had 
been absent for a whole day, having cut two lec- 
tures and taken supper with Adele Windsor at 
Beta Phi House. It had been agreed among 
them that Adele should never be welcomed in their 
circle again; for they were morally certain that 
it was Adele who had done the mischief, although 
Otoyo loyally kept her word not to tell the name. 

Otoyo, bewildered and happy over this ava- 
lanche of company, toddled about the room in her 
soft house slippers looking for refreshments. 


174 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOE DAYS 
From strange foreign looking packing boxes in 
the closet she produced tin cases of candied gin- 
ger and pineapple, boxes of rice cakes, nuts and 
American chocolate creams which Otoyo liked 
better than the daintiest American dish that could 
be devised. 

Every guest had brought Otoyo a gift of flow- 
ers. They made her sit in the armchair while 
they circled around her, singing : 

‘"Old friends are the best friends. 

The friends that are tried and true.’' 

Then they made her dress up in her finest ki- 
mono and sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed 
while one by one they filed before her and each 
made an humble apology. 

''Oh, it is too much,” Otoyo cried. "I implore 
you forgeeve me. It was madlee of me to listen 
to so much weekedness. Humble little Japanese 
girl is bad to entertain such meanly thoughts.” 

At last when all the rites and ceremonies were 


THE DROP OF POISON 175' 

over and they had settled down to refreshments 
in good earnest, Edith began the tale of ''The 
Fall of the House of Usher, which she recited in 
thrilling fashion. The girls always huddled to- 
gether in a frightened group at this performance. 
At the most dramatic moment, as if it had been 
timed purposely, the door was flung open and a 
tall lady in black stood on the threshold. She 
hesitated a moment and then sailed in, her black 
chiffon draperies floating about her like a dark 
cloud. Then she flung a lace mantilla from her 
head and stood before them revealed as Judy, in 
a black wig apparently. 

"Judy Kean, what have you been up to?'’ asked 
Nance suspiciously. 

"Where did you get your black wig?" de- 
manded Molly. 

"Don't you think it becoming?" asked Judy. 
"Don't you think it enhances the whiteness of my 
skin and the brightness of my eye?" 

"All very well for a fancy dress party, but you 
don't look yourself, Judy. Do take it off." 


176 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

''Now, don’t say that,” answered Judy, "be- 
cause I can’t take it off without cutting it. I’ve 
changed the color. That’s where I’ve been all 
day. It’s awfully exciting. You’ve no idea how 
many things you have to do to change your hair 
dark. Of course, it’s perfectly ladylike to make 
it dark. It’s only bad form to dye it light.” 

"Judy, you haven’t?” they cried. 

"I certainly have,” she answered carelessly, 
and she proceeded to take out all the hair pins 
from her fluffy thick hair and let it down. "It’s 
raven black.” 

It was, in fact, an unnatural blue-black, some- 
thing the color of shoe blacking. 

"Oh, Judy, Judy, what will you do next?” cried 
Molly in real distress. 

"What will that girl make her do next ?” put in 
Nance, in a disgusted tone. 

"Now, Nance, I knew you’d say just that, but 
it’s not true. I did it of my own free will. I al- 
ways loved black and I’ve wanted black hair all 
my life.” 


THE DROP OF POISON 


177 


‘‘What will Miss Walker say?'’ asked some 
one. 

“She probably won't know anything about it. 
I doubt if she remembers the original color of 
my hair, anyhow. I'm sorry you don't think it's 
becoming to me. Adele thought it suited me per- 
fectly. Much better than the original mousy- 
brown shade." 

“I recognize Adele's fine touch in that expres- 
sion, ‘mousy-brown,' " put in Edith. 

“Did Adele do anything to change her appear- 
ance?" asked Margaret. 

“Oh, no, she is just right as she is. Her hair 
is a perfect shade, ‘Titian Brown,' it's called. 
But, girls, I must tell you about the marvelous 
face cream, ‘Cucumber Velvet'; it bleaches and 
heals at the same time." 

“Oh, go to," cried Katherine. you are 

so benighted, I don't know what's coming to you. 
Don't you know that Adele Windsor made Otoyo, 


178 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

‘‘No, no,’’ broke in Otoyo. “I have never told 
the name. I gave my honorable promise not to. 
I beg you not to mention it.” 

“What’s all this?” Judy began when the ten 
o’clock bell boomed and the girls scattered to their 
various rooms. 

That night, undressing in the dark, Nance and 
Molly explained to Judy what had happened. 

“But are you sure she did it?” Judy demanded. 
“Otoyo never said so, did she?” 

“No, but we are sure, anyway.” 

“I don’t believe it,” exclaimed Judy hotly. 
“Adele is the soul of honor. I shall never believe 
it unless Otoyo really tells the name.” 

And so Judy went off to bed entirely unreason- 
able about this new and fascinating friend. 

“All I can say for you, Judy,” said Molly, 
standing in Judy’s bedroom doorway, “is that I 
hate your black hair, but do you remember that 
old poem we used to sing as children? I’m sure 
you must have known it. Most children have.” 


THE DROP OF POISON 


179 


Then Molly recited in her musical clear voice : 

'' T once had a sweet little doll, dears, 

The prettiest doll in the world. 

Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears, 
And her hair was so charmingly curled. 

But I lost my poor little doll, dears, 

As I played on the heath one day ; 

And I cried for her more than a week, dears, 
But I never could find where she lay. 

‘‘ T found my poor little doll, dears. 

As I played in the heath one day : 

Folks say she is terribly changed, dears, 

For her paint is all washed away. 

And her arm trodden off by the cows, dears. 
And her hair not the least bit curled : 

Yet for old sake’s sake, she is still, dears. 

The prettiest doll in the world.’ ” 

‘'Humph !” said Judy. “Is that the way you 
feel about it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Thanks, awfully,” and with a defiant fling of 
the covers, Judy turned her face to the wall. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


JUDY DE^FIANT. 

When Judy Kean appeared at Chapel next 
morning she seemed serenely unconscious of the 
sensation she was creating. Her usual black 
dress and widow’s bands had always made her 
conspicuous and those who only knew her by 
sight, yet carried with them a vivid impression of 
her face : the large gray eyes swimming with vis- 
ions, the oval creamy face, the mouth rather 
large, the lips a little too full, perhaps, and fram- 
ing all this, her fluffy bright hair. 

The Quadrangle dining-room had already 
buzzed with the news of Judy’s reckless act, and 
now, as the seniors marched two by two up the 
aisle after the faculty, a ripple of laughter swept 
over the chapel. Necks were craned all over the 


180 


JUDY DEFIANT 


181 


room to see Judy’s mop of blue-black hair ar- 
ranged in a loose knot on the back of her neck, 
drawn well down over the forehead in a heavy 
dark mantle, carefully concealing the ears. 

But Miss Walker was not pleased with the 
liberties Judy had taken with her appearance. 
She had heard the ripple of laughter, stifled al- 
most as soon as it had commenced, and having 
reached her chair and faced the audience while 
the procession was still on its way up the aisle 
she noticed the amused glances directed toward 
Judy’s head. It took only a second glance to as- 
sure herself of what Judy had done and she 
frowned and compressed her lips. When the ser- 
vice was over, she made a little impromptu ad- 
dress to the students. College, she said, was a 
place for serious work and not for frivolity. Of 
course there were no objections to innocent fun, 
but absurdities would not be tolerated. All the 
time she was speaking she was looking straight 
at Judy, who, with chin resting on her hand and 


182 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOR DAYS 
eyelids drooped, apparently read a hymn book. 
That afternoon Miss Julia Kean received a sum- 
mons to appear at Miss Walker's office immedi- 
ately. From this interview Judy emerged in a 
stubborn, angry humor. Miss Walker was a wise 
woman in her generation, but she had never had 
a girl of Judy's temperament to deal with before. 
Judy's rather contemptuous indifference had in- 
flamed the President into saying some rather 
harsh things. 

If one girl dyed her hair a great many others 
might. Such things often struck a college in 
waves and she was not going to tolerate it. 

Therefore, Judy, unreasonably angry, as she 
always was under reproof, had no word to say to 
her anxious friends awaiting her at No. 5, Quad- 
rangle. 

‘Was it very bad, Judy, dear?" Nance asked, 
when Judy walked into the room, white and silent. 

‘Tt was worse than that," replied Judy in a 
steady even voice. “If she had given me twenty 


JUDY DEFIANT 183 

lashes on my bare shoulders I should have liked 
it better. What business is it of hers what color 
I turn my hair? This is not a boarding school. 
I detest her !” Whereupon, she slammed her door 
and the girls did not see her again for several 
hours. 

When she did finally emerge, she was calm and 
smiling, but the girls felt instinctively that her 
dangerous mood had not passed, only deepened, 
and Molly felt she would give a great deal to win 
her friend away from the malign influence of 
Adele Windsor. 

It seemed to her sometimes that Judy was cher- 
ishing a secret grievance against her as well as 
against Miss Walker. But Molly had little time 
for brooding over such things in the daytime and 
at night sleep overtook her as soon as her tired 
head dropped on the pillow. 

A great many things were in the air at Wel- 
lington just now. A prize had been offered for 
the best suggestion for a jubilee entertainment 


184 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOE DAYS 
It was only ten dollars, but every girl in college 
competed except Judy. One morning Adele 
Windsor’s name was posted on the bulletin board 
as winner of the prize, and not long afterward 
they learned that it was Judy’s scheme, unfolded 
on the opening night of college, that Adele had 
appropriated, no doubt with Judy’s full consent. 

Molly’s exchange of brief notes with Jimmy 
Lufton had ripened into a correspondence, and 
she was prepared therefore for the enormous 
package containing at least a dozen Sunday 
newspapers that came to her one morning — also 
a check for fifteen dollars. With eager fingers 
she tore wrappers from the papers, and began to 
search through multitudinous columns for her 
article about Wellington. 

At last, with Nance’s and Judy’s help, she foimd 
it, not tucked away in a corner as she had half 
expected, but spread out over the page. It is true 
the pictures were rather blurred, but there were 
the columns of writing, all hers, so she fondly be- 


JUDY DEFIANT 


185 


Heved, so skillfully had Mr. Lufton wrought the 
changes he had been obliged to make. 

The article was signed ''M. W. C. B.’' and a 
framed copy of it hangs to this day on the 
crowded walls of the Commune office. There 
was not much doubt who “M. W. C. B.’’ was and 
Molly was deluged with calls and congratulations 
all day. It was glorious to have been the means 
of refuting Miss Beatrice Slammer’s criticisms, 
and she could not help feeling very proud as she 
hurried down the avenue to the infirmary, one 
of the papers tucked under her arm, devoutly hop- 
ing that Alice Fern had gone home by now. It 
was reported that the Professor was walking 
about and in a few days was to go to Bermuda 
to stay until after the Christmas holidays. The 
Professor himself, and not Miss Fern, opened 
the door for Molly before Miss Grace Green, 
reading aloud by the window, could remonstrate 
with him. l^e was a mere ghost of his former 
self, pale, emaciated. His clothes seemed three 


186 MOLLY BLOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
sizes too big for his wasted frame and he had 
grown quite bald around the temples. Molly 
thought him very old that afternoon. 

‘‘Fve brought something to show you/’ she 
said, after she had shaken hands with the brother 
and sister and the three had drawn up their chairs 
by the window. Then Miss Grace Green read the 
article aloud and Molly explained that it was Mr. 
Lufton, to whom they were already so deeply in- 
debted, who had arranged to get it published. 

"T took him over to the Commune office,” said 
Molly, ‘'and that started it.” 

Miss Green smiled and the Professor shifted 
uneasily in his chair. Presently Miss Green rose. 

“It’s time for your buttermilk, Edwin, and you 
and I shall have some tea. Miss Molly,” she added 
as she slipped out of the room. 

“Tell me a little about yourself, Miss Molly,” 
observed the Professor, when they were left alone. 
“Did you have a pleasant summer and how is the 
old orchard?” 


JUDY DEFIANT 


187 


‘'Oh, the orchard was most shamefully neg- 
lected,’' replied Molly. "Simply a mass of weeds 
and the apples left rotting on the ground all this 
fall, so mother writes. William, our colored man, 
cut down the worst of the weeds with a scythe 
last summer and I kept the ground cleared where 
the hammock hangs. It’s been such a rainy sum- 
mer, I suppose that’s why things grew so rank, 
but I’m sorry the old gentleman is neglecting his 
property after making such a noble start.” 

The Professor laughed. 

"You have made the acquaintance of the owner, 
then?” he asked. 

"Oh no, we have never even learned his name, 
but I feel quite sure he is very old. Sometimes I 
seem to see him in the orchard, an old, old man 
leaning on a stick. I think he is old and eccentric 
because a young man would never have bought 
property he had never seen.” 

"Can’t a young man be eccentric?” 

"Oh, yes, but mother and my brothers and sis- 


188 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
ters, all of us believe this man is old from some- 
thing the agent said. He told mother that the 
new owner of the orchard had bought it because 
he was looking for a retired spot in which to 
spend his old age.’’ 

Again the Professor laughed and the color rose 
in his face and spread over his cheeks and fore- 
head. 

Presently Miss Green returned with the tea 
things and the buttermilk. 

‘'Has Miss Fern gone?” asked Molly. 

“Oh yes, we finally prevailed on her to go 
home,” answered Miss Green. “She really need 
not have been here at all. The infirmary nurse 
would have looked after Edwin, but she seemed 
to think she was indispensable.” 

“Grace, my dear sister,” remonstrated the Pro- 
fessor. 

From Miss Fern the talk drifted to many 
things. Molly told them more of Jimmy Lufton: 
how he had charmed everybody and what a won- 
derful life he led in New York. 


JUDY DEFIANT 


189 


should like to be on a newspaper/^ she said 
suddenly. ‘Tt would be lots more exciting than 
teaching school.'^ 

The Professor looked up quickly. 

should be sorry to see you take that step, 
Miss Molly.’^ 

‘Well, I haven’t taken it yet, but I was only 
thinking that Mr. Lufton might be a great deal 
of help to me.” 

“You must not,” said the Professor sternly. 
“Don’t think of it for a moment. The Commune 
is putting ideas into your head, or this Mr. Luf- 
ton.” 

Molly felt uncomfortable for some reason and 
Miss Green changed the subject. 

“By the way,” she said, “I heard the other day 
what had become of some of the luncheon you 
seniors lost the day the Major took you in and 
fed you. The thieves probably took all they could 
carry with them and dumped the rest in a field 
between Exmoor and Round Head. Like as not 


190 MOLLY BKOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
they picnicked on top of Round Head. Some of 
the Exmoor boys found a pile of desiccated sand- 
wiches and hard-boiled eggs and cake one day 
when they were out walking, and Dodo and Andy 
brought the story to me.’' 

‘'Think of the waste of it,” exclaimed Molly. 
“They might at least have given what they didn’t 
want to the poor.” 

“There aren’t any poor people around there, 
child.” 

“Well, to Mrs. Murphy, then. She’s poor and 
we wouldn’t have minded having worked so hard 
to feed Mrs. Murphy.” 

“I wonder who did it,” put in the Professor. 

“None of the Exmoor boys. I’m sure,” said his 
sister, who had a very soft spot for the boys of 
her younger brother’s college. 

“Some day it will come out,” announced Molly. 
“Things always do sooner or later and we needn’t 
bother about playing detective. It’s a horrible 
role to act, anyway.” 


JUDY DEFIANT 191 

‘T remember when I was a boy at college/' be- 
gan the Professor, ‘‘some fellows played rather 
a nasty practical joke on some of us and they 
were caught by a trick of fate. On the night of 
the senior class elections, which always take place 
just before a banquet at the Exmoor Inn, some 
of the students broke into the inn kitchen, masked, 
overpowered the cook and the waiter and stole all 
the food they conveniently could carry away. 
One of the saucepans contained lobster, and the 
next morning there were six very ill young men 
at the infirmary with ptomaine poisoning and it 
was not hard to guess who were the thieves of 
our supper.’’ 

“Were they punished?” asked Molly. 

“Oh, yes. Exmoor never permits escapades 
like that. They were suspended for six weeks, 
although they had saved the entire senior class 
from a pretty severe illness.” 

“At least, you might have felt some gratitude 
for that,” observed Miss Green. 


m MOLLY BROWFS SENIOR DAYS 

“We did, but the President took only a one- 
sided view of the matter.” 

“Fm afraid it’s too late for attacks of indiges- 
tion from our lunch,” observed Molly. “The only 
thing out of common we had at the lunch were 
‘snakey-noodles.’ ” 

“What in the world?” asked the brother and 
sister together. 

“It doesn’t sound very appetizing, does it ? But 
they are awfully good. Our old cook makes them 
at home. They are coils of very rich pastry with 
raisins and cinnamon all through.” 

“Don’t mention it,” exclaimed the Professor, 
whose appetite was greater than his official al- 
lowance of food. “I would give anything for a 
hot snakey-noodle with a glass of milk.” 

“When you come back from Bermuda, I’ll see 
that your wish is gratified,” replied Molly, laugh- 
ing, as she rose to go. 

“Miss Molly,” said the Professor, as he bade 
her good-bye at the door, “I wish you would 


JUDY DEFIANT 


193 


promise me three things: don't overwork; don't 
make plans to work on a newspaper instead of 
teaching school, and — don't forget me." 

‘‘I'm not likely to do that, Professor. I'm al- 
ways wanting to go to your office and ask you 
questions and advice. The last time we were 
there. Dodo and I, I found two old rotten apples. 
I took the liberty of throwing them away." 

“It's too bad for good apples to be left rotting 
on the ground or anywhere," said the Professor, 
and he closed the door softly. While this surely 
was a very simple statement, somehow he seemed 
to mean more than he said. 

Just why Molly's thoughts were on the lost 
snakey-noodles as she walked up the campus, she 
could not say. She recalled that they had been 
carefully done up in a box marked on top in large 
print, “Snakey-noodles from Aunt Ma’y Morton." 
That was the Browns' cook. 

“I wonder if they were left with the half of 
the lunch in Exmoor meadow," she thought with 


194 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOE DAYS 
fond regret for this wasted gift of their old col- 
ored cook, who had taken unusual pains to make 
the snakey-noodles as crusty and delicious as pos- 
sible. 

''So passeth snakey-noodles and all good 
things,” she said to herself as she entered the 
Quadrangle. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE CAMPUS GHOST. 

About this time Wellington was filled with 
strange rumors that were much discussed in small 
sitting rooms behind closed doors. It was said, 
and this part of the story could be credited as 
truth, that a woman had been seen wandering 
about the campus late at night wringing her 
hands and moaning. Some of the Blakely House 
girls had seen her from their window one night 
and had rushed to find the matron, but the 
strange woman had disappeared by the time the 
matron had been summoned. Another night she 
had been seen, or rather heard, under the Quad- 
rangle windows. She had been seen at other 
places and some of the Irish maids had been filled 
with superstitious dread because, absurd as it 


195 


196 


MOLLY BROWN'S SENIOR DAYS 


might seem to sensible persons, it was reported 
that the weeping, moaning lady was the ghost of 
Miss Walker’s sister who had died so many years 
ago. 

^It’s an evil omen. Miss,” a waitress said to 
Nance one evening. ^‘In Ireland ghosts come to 
foretell bad news. It’s no good to the college, 
shure, that she’s wandering here the nights.” 

‘'Don’t you worry, Nora. It’s just some poor 
crazy woman,” said Nance sensibly. 

“Then where does she be after keeping herself 
hid in the daytime. Miss?” 

“I can’t say, but it will come out sooner or later. 
Ghosts don’t exist.” 

“Shure an’ you’ll foind a-plenty of ’em in the 
old country. Miss.” 

“Well, maybe this is an imported ghost,” 
laughed Molly. 

Nevertheless, not a girl in college but felt 
slightly uneasy about being out after dark alone, 
and most trans-campus visitors were careful to 
come-home early. 


THE CAMPUS GHOST 197 

One night Molly and Nance had been down to 
the village to supper with Judith Blount and Mad- 
eleine Petit. They had had a gay time and a 
jolly supper and it was quite half past nine before 
they hurried up the hilly road to Wellington. The 
two girls had locked arms and were walking 
briskly along talking in low voices. It was a won- 
derful night. There was no moon, but the stars 
were brilliant and Molly was inclined to be poeti- 
cal. 

“Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou 
art,'' she began, waving her free arm with ex- 
pressive gestures. “Not in lone splendor hung 
aloft the night " 

“Molly," hissed Nance, in a frightened whis- 
per, “do be still, look!" They had turned in at 
the avenue now, and there, directly over where 
old Queen's once stood, was a tall figure draped 
in black. As the girls came up, she began to 
moan in a low voice and wring her hands. 

“Oh, Molly, I'm so scared, my knees are giving 
away. What shall we do ?" 


198 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

“Let's run," whispered Molly, admitting 
silently that the phantom was a bit unnerving. 
“Here, take my hand and let's fly. She's crazy, 
of course, and she might do anything to us." 

With hands clasped, the two girls flew up the 
campus. Glancing over her shoulder, Nance gave 
a wild cry and pressed along faster. 

“She's chasing us," she gasped. “Oh, heavens, 
she'll kill us !" 

Molly glanced back. Sure enough, the phan- 
tom, keeping well within the shadow of the elms, 
was running behind them. 

“Oh, Nance, can't you run a little faster?" she 
cried, now thoroughly frightened. 

Not a soul was on the campus that night. The 
place was entirely deserted, arid it looked for a 
few minutes as if they were going to have a very 
uncomfortable time, but as they neared the Quad- 
rangle, the figure slipped away and was lost in 
the dense shadow of the trees that bordered the 


avenue. 



Molly glanced back. Sure enough the phantom * * * * was 
running behind them . — Page 198. 





^ « 


THE CA]\rPUS GHOST 


199 


‘T^ay me on a stretcher/’ gasped Molly, as she 
dropped on a bench inside the gates while Nance 
went to inform the gate-keeper of the strange 
presence on the campus. 

Immediately the gate-keeper, who was also 
night watchman, rushed out with a lantern to 
chase the phantom, which was a poor way to 
catch her, you will admit. 

Once in the privacy of their own sitting room, 
Nance had a real case of hysterics, laughing and 
weeping alternately, and Molly felt quite faint 
and had to lie on the sofa, while Judy, who had 
been moodily strumming her guitar most of 
the evening, gave them aromatic spirits of am- 
monia. 

‘1 should think you would have been fright- 
ened,’’ she said sympathetically, '‘but fancy old 
Nance’s running ! It’s the first time on record.” 

Nance shuddered. 

"I don’t think you would have stood still under 
the circumstances,” she answered. 


200 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

“I don't think I would, but I should like to have 
known who the ghost was just the same. Sup- 
pose you had stopped still and let her come up to 
you, do you think she would ?" 

‘‘Heavens!" exclaimed the other two in one 
breath. 

“She ran after you because you were running 
from her," observed the wise Judy. 

“People always give advice about ghosts and 
robbers and mad dogs," said Molly. “And they 
are the ones that run the fastest when the ghosts 
and robbers and mad dogs appear." 

“Do you think it was a ghost?" asked Judy, 
ignoring the irritation of her friends. 

“If it had been a ghost it would have caught 
up with us," answered Molly, while Nance in the 
same breath said emphatically : 

“I don't believe in ghosts." 

Nance and Molly were heroines for several 
days after this, and during this time the “ghost" 
did not reappear on the campus, although a close 


THE CAMPUS GHOST 201 

watch was kept for her. The V\ illiams sisters 
insisted on walking down the avenue every night 
at half past nine in hopes of seeing a real phan- 
tom, but she was careful to keep herself well out 
of sight during this vigilance. 

One night some ten days later, just as the town 
clock tolled midnight, Molly waked suddenly with 
a draught of cold air in her face. She sat up in 
bed and glanced sleepily through the open door 
into the sitting room. 

‘'Where did the air come from she wondered, 
and then noticed that Judy's door was open and 
slipped softly out of bed. Why she did not simply 
close her own door she never could explain, but 
some hidden impulse moved her to look into 
Judy's room. A shaded night lamp turned quite 
low cast a soft luminous shadow right across 
Judy's bed, which was empty. Molly started vio- 
lently. Once before they had come into Judy's 
room at midnight and found her bed empty. The 
startling recollection caused Molly to run to the 


m MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
open window. As she leaned out her hand touched 
something rough — a rope. 

''A rope ladder Y' she whispered to herself, hor- 
rified. “Great heavens, Judy has done for her- 
self now.’’ Just then the rope scraped her 
knuckles and she felt a tug at it from below. 
“Some one is coming up.” Molly looked out. 

“Judy,” she whispered in a tone filled with re- 
proach. “How could you?” 

The voice from above must have frightened the 
climber, for, with an excited little gasp, she 
missed her hold on the rope and fell backward, 
where she lay for a moment perfectly still. It 
was not a very great fall, but it must have hurt, 
and instantly Molly climbed to the window sill 
and began to make her way slowly down the lad- 
der. 

It was not so difficult as she had thought, but 
she was frightened when at last she bounded onto 
the ground, and she was freezing cold in spite of 
her knitted slippers and woolen dressing gown. 


THE CAMPUS GHOST 203 

'‘Have you hurt yourself badly?'' she asked, 
leaning over Judy, who was endeavoring to sit 

up. 

"No, only dazed from the fall," whispered 
Judy. "Go on up, will you, or we'll both get 
caught." 

"You'd better go first," said Molly, "I'm afraid 
to leave you down here alone. Go on, instantly," 
she added, remembering that she must be stern 
since Judy richly deserved all the reproaches she 
could think of. 

Judy began the ascent and pulled herself over 
the window sill. Then exhausted, she sat on the 
floor, holding her throbbing temples in both 
hands. That is why she did not see what was 
presently to happen. Just as Molly placed her 
foot on the first rung of the ladder, a firm hand 
grasped her arm. Why she did not shriek aloud 
with all the power of her lungs she never knew, 
but she remained perfectly silent while a voice — 
and it was Miss Walker's voice — said in her ear: 


204 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOK DAYS 

''You will say nothing about this to-night. I 
wish you to come to my office to-morrow morning 
at ten. Do you understand 

"Yes, ma’am,’' answered Molly, reverting to 
her childhood’s method of answering older people. 
She climbed the ladder in a dazed sort of way. It 
was more difficult than climbing down, but at last 
she scaled the window sill and jumped into the 
room. Judy was still sitting on the floor, holding 
her temples. Perhaps it had been only five min- 
utes, but it seemed like a thousand years. How- 
ever, she felt little sympathy for Judy, bruised 
temple or not. 

"Get up from there and get to your bed,” she 
whispered. "And I want to hear from you ex- 
actly what you were doing down there and where 
you got that ladder.” 

"The rope ladder belonged to Anne White,” 
Judy answered in a stifled voice. "I borrowed it 
to win a wager from Adele. Of course, I don’t 
mean to blame her, but she teased me into it. It 
was silly, I know, looking back on it now.” 


THE CAMPUS GHOST 


205 


'What was the bet?’' 

"She bet that I would be afraid to climb down 
that ladder at midnight when the ghost is sup- 
posed to walk. I was simply to climb down, touch 
the ground and climb back again.” 

"Idiots, both of you,” said Molly furiously. 

"I know it, and I am sorry now,” said the peni- 
tent Judy, "but fortunately no harm has been 
done except to my silly head, which needed a good 
whacking, anyhow.” 

"No harm,” thought Molly angrily. "I wonder 
what’s going to happen to me to-morrow. One 
of us will be expelled, I suppose. Miss Walker 
is already down on Judy.” 

"Thank you for coming down to me, Molly, 
dearest.” 

Molly closed the door. 

"Judy, I want you to promise me something,” 
she said. "If you get out of this scrape ” 

"But no one knows it but you.” 

"I have no idea of telling on you, Judy, but 


206 MOLLY BROWIsr^S SENIOR DAYS 
things leak out. How do you know you weren’t 
observed ?” 

Judy looked startled. 

want you to promise me to give up this Adele 
Windsor and her crowd. She’s never done you 
any good. She’s a malicious, dangerous, wicked 
girl and if you haven’t the sense to see it. I’ll just 
tell you.” 

This was strong language coming from 
Molly. 

'Tf you don’t, mid-years will certainly see your 
finish, if you aren’t dropped sooner. You’re not 
studying at all and you are simply acting out- 
rageously, dyeing your hair and borrowing rope 
ladders. I’m disgusted with you, Judy Kean, I 
am indeed.” 

‘'Miss Walker has a grudge against me,” an- 
nounced Judy, in a hot whisper. 

“Nonsense,” said Molly, and she swept out of 
the room and crawled into her bed, very weary 
and cold and frightened, wondering what the 


THE CAMPUS GHOST 207 

morrow would bring forth in the way of punish- 
ment for her — or was it to be for Judy? 

In the meantime, foolish Judy carefully coiled 
up the rope ladder and hid it in the bottom of her 
trunk. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


ON THE GRILIv. 

Not a word did Molly say to Nance or the un- 
suspecting Judy next morning about her appoint- 
ment with President Walker. 

‘‘Don’t forget Latin versification at ten,” 
Nance had cautioned her as she left the sitting 
room a quarter before ten. 

Molly had forgotten it and everything else ex- 
cept the matter in hand, but the President’s word 
was law and she prepared to obey and skip the 
lecture. 

The President was waiting for her in the little 
study. No one was about and an ominous quiet 
pervaded the whole place. 

“Sit down,” said Miss Walker, without reply- 
ing to Molly’s greeting of good morning. “So 


208 


ON THE GRILL 


209 


it’s you, is it, who has been wandering about the 
grounds at night in a gray dressing gown, scar- 
ing the students? I need not tell you how dis- 
gusted and grieved I am. Miss Brown.’’ 

Molly turned as white as a sheet. She had 
never dreamed that Miss Walker suspected her of 
being the campus ghost. 

But she answered steadily: 

‘'You are mistaken, Miss Walker. The ghost 
chased Nance and me the other night when we 
were coming back from the village. We were 
really frightened. I suppose it’s some insane per- 
son. 

“Then what were you doing on the campus at 
that hour, and where did you get that ladder ?” 

Molly turned her wide blue eyes on the Presi- 
dent with reproachful protest, and Miss Walker 
suddenly looked down at the blotter on the desk. 

“Answer my question, Miss Brown,” she asked 
more gently. 

How could Molly explain without telling on 


210 MOLLY BEOWFS SENIOR DAYS 
Judy, and yet did not that reckless, silly Judy de- 
serve to be told on ? 

Suddenly two tears trickled down her cheeks. 
She let them roll unheeded and clasped her hands 
convulsively in her lap. 

insist on an answer to my question. Miss 
Brown,” repeated the President, without looking 
up. Molly pressed her lips together to keep back 
the sobs. 

“I never saw the ladder until a few minutes be- 
fore you did,” she answered hoarsely. — oh. 
Miss Walker, you make it very hard,” she burst 
out suddenly, leaning on the table and burying 
her face in her hands. 

And then the most surprising thing happened. 
The President rose quickly from her chair, hur- 
ried over to where Molly was sitting with bowed 
head and drew the girl to her as tenderly as 
Molly’s own mother might have done. 

''There, there, my darling child,” she said 
soothingly. "I haven’t the heart to torture you 


ON THE GRILL 


211 


any longer. I know, of course, that it was your 
friend. Miss Kean, who was at the bottom of last 
night’s performance, and as usual you came down 
to help her when she fell. I only wanted you to 
tell me exactly what you knew.” 

The truth is, the President had tried an experi- 
ment on Molly and the experiment had failed, and 
no one was more pleased than Miss Walker her- 
self in the failure. She liked to see her girls 
loyal to each other. But things had not been go- 
ing well at Wellington that autumn. There was 
an undercurrent of mischief in the air, a danger- 
ous element, carefully hidden, and still slowly 
undermining the standards of Wellington. Miss 
Walker was very much enraged over the rumor 
that the ghost of her beloved sister had been seen 
wandering about the campus. This was too much. 
Her Irish maid had repeated the story to her and 
she had determined to lay that ghost without the 
assistance of the night watchman or any one else. 

The surprise of first being stretched on the 


212 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
grill and then embraced by the President of WeL 
lington College brought Molly to herself like a 
shock of cold water. She looked up into the older 
woman^s face and smiled and the two sat down 
side by side on a little sofa, the President still 
holding Molly's hand. There might be some who 
could resist the piteous look in those blue eyes, 
but not President Walker. 

“Pm afraid Pm just a weak old person,” she 
said to herself, giving the hand a little squeeze 
and then releasing it. 

‘‘Judy wasu^ the ghost, either. Miss Walker,” 
said Molly, glad to be able to defend her friend 
on safe grounds. “The night we were chased 
Judy was in our rooms all the time. Last night 
was the first time she had ever done anything so 
foolish. It was only because a girl she goes with 
bet she wouldn't. It was the same girl that made 
her dye her hair,” Molly added, without any feel- 
ing of disloyalty. 

“Ahem ! And who is this young woman who 
has such a bad influence on Miss Kean?” 


ON THE GRILL 


213 


Molly flushed. Was she to be placed on the 
grill again? But after all there was no harm in 
telling the name of the girl who had brought all 
Judy’s trouble on her. 

‘‘Adele Windsor.” 

‘'And what do you know of her ?” 

“I don’t know anything about her except that 
she has fascinated Judy.” 

“And Judy must be punished,” mused the Pres- 
ident. “Judy is a very difficult character and she 
must be brought to her senses if she expects to 
remain at Wellington.” 

“Judy loves Wellington, indeed she does, Miss 
Walker. It’s only that she has got into a wrong 
way of thinking this year. I’ve heard her tell 
freshmen how splendid it was here and how they 
would grow to love it like all the rest of us.” 

“She has not been doing well at all. She never 
studies. You see I know all about my girls.” 

“You didn’t know,” went on Molly, “that the 
Jubilee entertainment was all Judy’s idea. She 


214 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOK DAYS 
gave it to Adele Windsor — I don’t know why — 
just because she was in one of her obstinate 
moods, but I heard her plan out the whole thing 
the opening night of college — and it was all for 
the glory of Wellington.” 

The President’s face softened. 

“Molly,” she said, as if she had always called 
the young girl by her first name, “do you wish 
very much to save your friend ?” 

“Oh, I do, I do. I can’t think of any sacrifice 

I wouldn’t make to keep Judy from being ” 

she paused and lowered her eyes. Was Miss 
Walker thinking of expelling Judy? But Miss 
Walker was not that kind of a manager. She 
often treated her erring girls very much as a doc- 
tor treats his patients with a few doses of very 
nasty but efficacious medicine. 

“What is your opinion of what had best be 
done, then? You know her better than I do. 
What do you advise?” 

Molly was amazed. 


ON THE GRILL 


215 


‘^Me? You ask my advice?’’ she asked. 

The President nodded briskly. 

“Well, the best way to bring Judy to her senses 
is to give her a good scare and let it come out all 
right in the end.” 

The President smiled. 

“You’re one of the wisest of my girls,” she 
said, “now, run along. If I’ve made you miss a 
lecture I’m sorry.” 

“It mill come out all right in the end. Miss 
Walker?” asked Molly, turning as she reached 
the door. 

“I promise,” answered the other, smiling again 
as if the question pleased her. 

And so Molly escaped from the grill feeling 
really very happy, certainly much happier than 
when she entered the office. 

Late that evening while Molly and Nance were 
preparing to take a walk before supper, Judy 
rushed into the room. There was not a ray of 
color in her face and her hair stood out all 


216 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
over her head as if it had been charged with elec- 
tricity. 

''Oh, Molly, Molly,'’ she cried, "did you know 
the President had overheard everything that was 
said last night? She was at the foot of the lad- 
der all the time. You are not implicated, I saw 
to that, and Fve not told where I got the ladder. 
I simply said some one had given it to me. No 
one is in it but me. But Pm in it deep. Girls, 
I've lost out. It's all over. I've got to go. Oh, 
heavens, what a fool I've been." 

Judy flung herself on the divan and buried her 
face in the pillows. 

For a moment Molly almost lost faith in the 
President's promise. 

"What do you mean when you say you must 
go, Judy?" she asked. 

"It can't be true," burst out Nance, whose love 
for Judy sometimes clothed that young woman's 
sins in a garment of light. 

"Not expelled?" added Molly, in a whisper. 


ON THE GRILL 


217 


'‘No, no, not that; but suspended. I can come 
back just before mid-years, but don’t you see the 
trick? How can I pass my exams then? And 
Mama and Papa, what will they think? And, oh, 
the Jubilee and all of you and Wellington? 
Molly, IVe been a wicked idiot and some of my 
sins have been against you. I was jealous about 
that Jimmy Lufton because he had seemed to be 
my property and you took him away. And, Nance, 
I was mad with you because you were always 
preaching. I didn’t really like Adele Windsor. 
I think she is horrid. She’s malicious and she 
makes trouble. I’ve found that out, but she got 
me in her toils somehow ” 

And so poor Judy rambled on, confessing her 
sins and moaning like a person in mortal pain. 
She had worked herself into a fever, her face was 
hot and she looked at the girls with burning, un- 
seeing eyes. 

"Papa will be so disappointed,” she went on. 
"It will be harder on him than on Mama for me 


218 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
not to graduate with the class, and oh, I did love 
all of you — I really did/’ 

Tears, which Molly had never seen Judy shed 
but once before, now worked two tortuous little 
paths down her flushed cheeks. 

Molly and Nance comforted and nursed her 
into quiet. They bathed her face and loosened 
her dyed locks which were now beginning to show 
a strange tawny yellow at the roots and a rusty 
brownish color at the ends. All the time Molly 
was thinking very hard. 

‘‘Judy,” she said, at last, when they had got 
her quiet. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t 
pass the mid-years and graduate with your class 
if you want to.” 

“But how? I’m so behind now I can hardly 
catch up, and if I miss six weeks I can never do 
it.” 

“Yes, you can,” said Molly. “This is what you 
must do. Go down to the village and get board 
anywhere, with Mrs. Murphy or Mrs. O’Reilly. 


ON THE GRILL 


219 


Take all your books and begin to study. Every 
day some of us will come down and coach you, 
Nance or I, or Edith — I know any of the crowd 
would be glad to, so as not to lose you.’’ 

''But the Christmas holidays,” put in Judy. 

"I shall be here for all the holidays,” said 
Molly. "It will be all right.” 

And so the matter was settled. The very next 
day Judy’s exile began. She engaged a room at 
Mrs. O’Reilly’s, her obstinate mood slipped away 
from her and she was happier and more like her 
old self than she had been in weeks. And Molly 
was happy, too. She felt that she had saved Judy 
and freed her at the same time from the clutches 
of Adele Windsor. 


CHAPTER XVIL 


A CHRISTMAS DVE) MISUNDERSTANDING. 

The old Queen’s crowd rallied around the ex- 
iled Judy, even as Molly had predicted, and Judy 
was prostrated with gratitude. Nothing could 
have stirred her so deeply as this devotion of her 
friends. 

‘T feel like Elijah being fed by the ravens in 
the wilderness, only you are bringing me crumbs 
of learning,” she exclaimed to Molly who had 
taken her turn in coaching Judy. ‘T hope you 
don’t mind being called Tavens,’ ” she added 
apologetically. 

''Not at all,” laughed Molly. "I’d rather be 
called a raven than a catbird or a poll parrot or 
an English sparrow.” 

But Judy was already deep in her paper. Be- 


320 


A MISUNDERSTANDING 221 

ing a recluse from the world, her life consecrated 
to study, she was playing the part to perfection. 

If Adele Windsor knew that Judy was in the 
village, she gave no sign, and so the exile, in her 
old room at O’Reilly’s overlooking the garden, 
had nothing to do but bury herself in her neg- 
lected text books. Indeed, very few of the girls 
knew where Judy was. When she went out for 
her walks after dusk she wore a heavy veil and 
thoroughly enjoyed the disguise. One night the 
old crowd gave her a surprise party which Edith 
had carefully planned. Dressed in absurd pirati- 
cal costumes with skirts draped over one shoulder 
in the semblance of capes, brilliant sashes around 
their waists, many varieties of slouch hats and 
heavy black mustaches, they stormed Judy’s room 
in a body. 

''Hist!” said Edith, "the captive Maiden! We 
must release her ere sunrise !” Then they trooped 
in, danced a wild fandango which made Judy en- 
vious that she herself was not in it, and finally 
opened up refreshments. 


222 MOLLY BEOWY'S SENIOR DAYS 

So it was that Judy's exile was happy enough, 
and when Christmas holidays approached she had 
made up most of her lost work and was ready for 
Molly's careful coaching. 

Thus it is that heaven protects some of the 
foolish ones of this earth. Judy wrote to her 
mother and father that she was behind in her 
classes and would remain to study with Molly 
Brown, and as Mr. and Mrs. Kean were at this 
time in Colorado, they thought it a wise decision 
on the part of their daughter. 

Molly had grown to love the Christmas holi- 
days at college. It was a perfect time of peace 
after the excitement and hurry of her life — a 
time when she could steal into the big library and 
read the hours away without being disturbed, or 
scribble things on paper that she would like to 
expand into something, some day, when her diffi- 
dence should leave her. 

To-day, curled up in one of the big window 
seats, Molly was thinking of a curious thing that 
had happened that morning at O'Reilly's. 


A MISUNDERSTANDING 223 

She had gone in to say good-bye to Judith 
Blount and Madeleine Petit, who were leaving 
for New York by the noon train. 

“I suppose you’ll be visiting all the tea rooms 
in town for new ideas,” Molly had said pleas- 
antly. 

'‘Yes, indeed,” said Madeleine. 'T never leave 
a stone unturned and everything’s grist that 
comes to my mill. This fall I got six new ideas 
for sandwiches and the idea for a kind of bun 
that ought to be popular if only because of the 
name. I haven’t the recipe, but I think I can 
experiment with it until I get it.” 

"What’s the name?” Molly asked idly, never 
thinking of what a train of consequences that 
name involved. 

" ‘Snakey-noodles.’ Isn’t it great? Can’t you 
see it on a little menu and people ordering out of 
curiosity and then ordering more because they’re 
so good ?” 

'^Snakey-noodles,” Molly repeated in surprise. 


224 


MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 


'‘That’s the name, isn’t it, Judith?” asked 
Madeleine. 

"Oh, yes, I remember it because the bun is 
formed of twisted dough like a snake coiled up.” 

"It’s very strange,” said Molly. 

"What’s strange?” 

"Why, that name, snakey-noodle. You see it’s 
a kind of family name with us. Our old cook has 
been making them for years. I really thought she 
had originated it, but I suppose other colored 
people know it, too. Where did you have one?” 

"At a spread, oh, weeks and weeks ago.” 

"But where?” insisted Molly. "I have a real 
curiosity to know. Was it a Southern spread?” 

"Far from it,” said Madeleine. "Yankee as 
Yankee. One of the girls in Brentley House gave 
the spread.” 

"But she didn’t provide the snakey-noodles,” 
put in Judith. "What’s that girl’s name who 
talks through her nose ?” 

"Miss Windsor.” 


A MISUNDEESTANDING 225 

^‘Ohr 

‘‘Coming to think of it, I believe she said they 
had been sent to her from an aunt in the South,'' 
went on Madeleine. “So you see, Molly, nobody 
has been poaching on your preserves." 

Molly only smiled rather vaguely. She would 
have liked to ask a dozen more questions, but kept 
silent and presently, after shaking hands with the 
two inseparable friends, she went up to the li- 
brary to think. Somehow Molly was not sur- 
prised. Nothing that Adele Windsor could do 
surprised her. The surprising part was how she 
avoided being found out. It was just like her to 
have planned the theft of the Senior Ramble 
lunch. There was something really diabolical in 
her notions of amusement. And now, what was 
to be done ? 

Should she tell the other girls after the holi- 
days, or should she wait? It was all weeks off 
and Molly decided to let the secret rest in her 
own mind safely. Even if she told, it would be 


226 MOLLY BROWN'S SENIOR BAYS 
hard to prove the accusation at this late day, but 
perhaps — and here Molly’s thoughts broke oflf. 

'‘1 detest all this meanness and trickery,” she 
thought. *'1 don’t blame Miss Walker for want- 
ing to clean it out of the school. Anyway,” she 
added, smiling, 'hf that girl bothers Judy any 
more, I intend to pronounce the mystic name of 
snakey-noodles over her head like a curse and see 
what happens.” 

That afternoon Molly packed a suit-case full 
of clothes and lugged it down to Mrs. O’Reilly’s, 
where she had consented to spend Christmas with 
Judy instead of in her own pretty Quadrangle 
apartment. Secretly Molly would much rather 
have stayed in No. 5 , where she could have rested 
and read poetry as much as she liked. But she 
was rarely known to consult her own comfort 
when her friends asked her to do them a favor, 
and, after all, if she were going to put Judy 
through a course of study, she had better be on 
the spot to see that the irresponsible young per- 
son stuck to her books. 


A MISUNDERSTANDING 227 

So the two girls established themselves in the 
pleasant fire-lit room overlooking the garden. 
Judy had brought down two framed photographs 
of her favorite pictures and a big brass jar by 
way of ornament, and on Christmas Eve the girls 
went out to buy holly and red swamp berries. 

They were walking along the crowded side- 
walk arm in arm, recalling how last year they had 
done exactly the same thing, when they came un- 
expectedly face to face with Mr. James Lufton. 

‘Well, if this isn’t good luck,” he exclaimed. 
“Nobody at the Quadrangle seemed to know 
where you were.” 

He included both girls, but he really meant 
Molly. 

“And what are you doing here ?” asked Molly, 
giving him her hand after he had shaken Judy’s 
hand. 

“Andy McLean asked me down for Christmas,” 
he said. 

He failed to mention that he had pawned his 


m MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
watch, a set of Balzac and two silver trophies 
won at an athletic club, and, furthermore, had 
given out at the office that he was down with 
grippe, in order to accept the invitation. 

‘'Andy’s up the street now looking for you. 
He thought perhaps Mrs. Murphy might know^ 
where you were.” 

“What did he want with us ?” asked Judy, lift- 
ing her mourning veil. 

Jimmy hesitated. 

“He was thinking of getting up a Christmas 
dance, but ” He looked at Judy’s black dress. 

“She’s not in mourning, Mr. Lufton,” laughed 
Molly. “It’s only that she prefers to look like a 
mourning widow-lady.” 

“Oh, excuse me. Miss Kean,” said Jimmy. “I 
thought you had had a recent bereavement.” 

“Here, Judyt take oif that thing,” exclaimed 
Molly, unpinning the mourning veil in the back 
and snatching it off Judy’s glowing face. 

“Molly, how can you invade on the privacy of 
my grief,” exclaimed Judy, laughing. 


229 


A MISUNDERSTANDING 

'Why, it’s Miss Judy Kean,’’ exclaimed Dodo 
Green, coming up at that moment with Andy Mc- 
Lean. "Nothing has hap ” 

"No,” put in Molly, "it’s only one of Judy’s 
absurd notions. She’s been wearing mourning 
for years off and on, but she’s only lately gone 
into such heavy black.” 

"And you’ve no objection to a little fun, then?” 
asked Andy. 

"Not a particle,” answered Judy, the old bright 
look lighting her face. "My feelings aren’t black, 
I assure you.” 

"On with the dance, then, let joy be uncon- 
fined,” cried Andy. "We’ll call for you at a 
quarter of eight, girls — at O’Reilly’s, you say? 
I’ll have to trot along now and tell the mater.” 

The three boys hurried off while Molly and 
Judy rushed home to look over their party clothes. 

"Isn’t life a pleasant thing, after all?” ex- 
claimed Judy, and Molly readily agreed that it 


was. 


230 MOLLY BKOWN’S SENIOK DAYS 

Such a jolly impromptu Christmas Eve party 
as it was that night at the McLeans’ ! Mrs. Mc- 
Lean had a niece visiting her from Scotland, an 
interesting girl with snappy brown eyes and 
straight dark hair. She was rather strangely 
dressed, Molly thought, in a red merino with a 
high white linen collar and a black satin tie, and 
she looked at Molly and Judy in their pretty even- 
ing gowns with evident disapproval. Just as 
Jimmy Lufton and Molly had completed the glide 
waltz for the fifth time that evening and had sunk 
down on a sofa breathless, the parlor door opened 
and in walked Professor Edwin Green, looking as 
well as he had ever looked in his life, with a fine 
glow of color in his cheeks. 

''My dear Professor!” cried Mrs. McLean. 

"Ed, I thought you were going to spend 
Christmas in the south,” exclaimed his brother. 

"You are a disobedient young man,” ejaculated 
the doctor, — all in one chorus. 

"Don’t scold the returned wanderer,” said the 


A MISUNDERSTANDING 231 

Professor, glancing about the room swiftly until 
he caught Molly's eye, and then smiling and nod- 
ding. 'Tt's dangerous for convalescents to be 
bored, and realizing that Christmas in the tropics 
might bring on a relapse, I decided to lose no time 
in getting back home." 

'‘And glad we are to see you, lad," said the 
doctor, seizing his hand and shaking it warmly. 
"You did quite right to come back before the 
ennui got in its work. It's worse than the fever." 

Molly left Jimmy Lufton's side to shake hands 
with the Professor, and then the Professor re- 
membered the young newspaper man and greeted 
him cordially, and after that all the company went 
back into the dining-room for hot chocolate and 
sandwiches. And here it was that all the mischief 
started which came very near to breaking up the 
great friendship that existed between Molly and 
the Professor. 

It was simply that the Professor overheard 
scraps of information that Jimmy was pouring 


232 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOE DAYS 
into Molly's ready ear while she listened with 
glowing cheeks and a gay smile to what he had 
to say. 

‘'Oh, you'll enjoy New York all right, Miss 
Brown, and the newspaper work won't be as hard 
as what you are doing now, I fancy. I'm sure 

they'd take you on if only for your " he 

paused. "You have only to ask and I'll put in a 
good word, too," he added. "You can never 
understand what a good time you'll have until 
you get there — theaters until you have had 
enough and the opera, too. I often get tickets 
through our critic " 

"The grand opera," repeated Molly. 

"Yes, anything you like. Lohengrin, Aida, La 
Boheme. Sooner or later you will see them all. 
Then there are the restaurants — such jolly places 
to get little dinners, and you are so independent. 
You are too busy to be lonesome and you can 
come and go as you like, nobody to boss you ex- 
cept the editor, of course, and you'll soon catch 


A MISUNDERSTANDING 233 

on. You have a natural knack for writing. I 
could tell that by your letters 

Molly, listening to the voice of the tempter, saw 
a picture of New York as one might see a pic- 
ture of a carnival, all lights and fun and good 
times. 

''But I want to work, too, more than anything 
else,’’ she said suddenly. 

"Oh, you’ll have plenty to do,” laughed the 
careless Jimmy, who took life about as seriously 
as a humming-bird. 

After supper the Professor drew Molly away 
from the crowd of young people and led her to a 
sofa in the hall. 

"I want to talk to you,” he said in a tone of 
authority that a teacher might use to a pupil. "I 
could not help overhearing what your newspaper 
friend was saying to you at supper, and I wish 
you would take my advice and not listen to a word 
he says. He’s just a young fool !” 

The Professor was quite red in the face and 


m MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
Molly also flushed and her eyes darkened with 
anger. 

donh agree with you about that/’ she said. 

‘Ms it possible you are going to put all this hard 
studying you have been doing for the last three 
and a half years into writing news items for a 
yellow journal ? Fm disgusted.” 

“But I only expected to start there ” began 

Molly. 

“And is that young idiot trying to persuade 
you that the sort of life he described — a wild car- 
nival life of dissipation and restaurant dinners is 
the right life for you? I tell you he’s mistaken. 
I should like to — to ” 

Molly’s face was burning now. 

“I — I — I don’t think it’s any of your business,” 
she burst out. At this astonishing speech the 
Professor came to himself with a start. 

“I beg your pardon, Miss Brown,” he said. “I 
realize now that I entirely overstepped the mark. 
Good evening.” 


A MISUNDERSTANDING 235 

'‘Miss Brown, shall we have the last dance to- 
gether?’’ called Jimmy Lufton down the hall, and 
presently poor Molly, whirling in the waltz, won- 
dered why her temples throbbed so and her throat 
ached. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


TWO CHRISTMAS BREAKFASTS. 

Early Christmas morning a slender figure in 
faded blue corduroy could be seen hurrying up 
the road that led from the village to the college 
grounds. The frosty wind nipped two spots of 
red on her cheeks and under the drooping brim 
of her old blue felt hat her eyes shone like patches 
of sky in the sunlight. Where was Molly bound 
for at this early hour? The church bells were 
ringing out the glad Christmas tidings ; the 
ground sparkled with hoar frost; but not a mo- 
ment did she linger to listen to the cheerful clang- 
ing, or even to glance at the lonely vista of hill 
and dale stretched around her. Hurrying across 
the campus, she skirted the college buildings and 
presently gained the pebbled path that led to the 


236 


TWO CHRISTMAS BREAKFASTS 237 
old campus in the rear, flanked by a number of old 
red brick houses, formerly the homes of the pro- 
fessors. They were now used for various pur- 
poses: the college laundry; homes for the em- 
ployees about the building and grounds and rooms 
for bachelor professors. 

Hastening along the path to the house where 
Professor Green was domiciled, Molly was think- 
ing: 

"‘Only a year ago I had to make the same apol- 
ogy to him. Oh, my wicked, wicked temper! I 
am ashamed of myself.’’ 

And now she had reached the old brick house 
and sounded the brass knocker with an eager 
rat-tat-tat. Presently she heard footsteps re- 
sound along the empty hall and the Irish house- 
keeper flung open the door. 

“Is Professor Green up yet?” Molly demanded. 

“And shure I’ve not an idea whether he be up 
or slapin’.” 

“But can’t you see?” 


238 MOLLY BBOWFB SLNIOB BAYS 


‘1 cannot. It wouldn’t be an aisy thing to do, 
Fm thinkin’/’ 

''And why not, pray? It must be his breakfast 
time. You have only to rap on his door. And it’s 
very important.” 

"And if it’s so important, you’d better be after 
sendin’ him a cable to the Bahamas, where the 
Professor is sunnin’ himself at prisint.” 

"Nonsense, Mrs. Brady, the Professor got back 
last night. I saw him myself. He must be up in 
his room now. Do go and see. You haven’t 
cooked him a bit of breakfast, I suppose ?” 

Mrs. Brady turned without a word and tiptoed 
up the stairs. Molly heard her breathing heavily 
as she moved along the hall and tapped on the 
Professor’s door. Then came a muffled voice 
through the closed door. 

"I’ll git ye some breakfast, sir,” called Mrs. 
Brady, and down she came. 

"Shure an’ you wuz right an’ I wuz wrong, an’ 
I’m obliged to you for the information. But he’ll 


TWO CHRISTMAS BREAKFASTS 239 
not be ready for seein’ people for an hour yet, 
maybe longer.’’ 

‘‘Mrs. Brady,” said Molly, moved by a sudden 
inspiration. “Let me get his breakfast.” 

“But ” objected the Irish woman. 

“I’m a splendid cook and I’ll give you no trou- 
ble at all. Please.” Molly put her hands on the 
Irish woman’s shoulders and looked into her face 
appealingly. 

“Shure, thim eyes is like the gals’ in the old 
countree. Miss,” remarked Mrs. Brady, visibly 
melting under that telling gaze. “Ye can do as 
you like, but if the Professor don’t like his break- 
fast the blame be on you.” 

“He’ll like it. I’m perfectly certain,” said 
Molly, following Mrs. Brady back to the kitchen. 

“It’s a very, very funny world,” said Mrs. 
Brady, displaying the contents of her larder to 
the volunteer cook. 

Her resources were limited, to be sure, but 
Molly improvised a breakfast out of them that a 


240 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
king would not have scorned. There were pop- 
overs done to a golden brown, a perfect little 
omelet, bacon crisp enough to please the most 
fastidious palate and an old champagne glass, the 
spoils of some festive occasion, filled with iced 
orange juice. The coffee was strong and fra- 
grant. 

‘'He’s very particular about it. Miss, an’ he 
buys his own brand.” 

Then Molly set the tray. Mrs. Brady’s best 
white linen cover she snatched from the shelf 
without asking leave. In a twinkling she had 
polished and heated the blue china dishes, placed 
the breakfast on them and covered them tight 
with hot soup plates, since there were no other 
covers. Then she snipped off the top of a red 
geranium blooming in the window sill and 
dropped it into a finger bowl. 

“Lord love ye, Miss, but that’s a beautiful 
tray,” exclaimed Mrs. Brady, hypnotized by 
Molly’s swift movements and skillful workman- 


TWO CHRISTMAS BREAKFASTS 241 
ship. 'Tf I did not know ye wuz a lady from 
your looks I should say ye wuz a born cook. But 
Mrs. Murphy be afther tellin' me how you used 
to make things in her kitchen. Ye must be the 
same one, since it’s red hair and blue eyes ye 
have ” 

Molly had disappeared into the pantry to re- 
place the flour sifter while Mrs. Brady was hold- 
ing forth, and now through a crack in the pantry 
door she saw the kitchen door open and Professor 
Green, in a long dressing gown, stalk in. 

“Don’t bother about breakfast for me, Mrs. 
Brady,” he said. “A cup of coffee quite strong — 
stronger than you usually make it, please — that’s 
all I want.” 

Mrs. Brady, glancing at Molly hidden in the 
pantry, saw her shake her head and place a finger 
on her lips. 

The Irish woman smiled broadly. It was a sit- 
uation in which she saw many humorous possi- 
bilities and an amusing story to tell over the tea 
cups to Mrs. Murphy and Mrs. O’Reilly. 


242 


MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 


''Shure an’ ye needn’t eat it, sir,” she said, in 
an injured tone, “but it’s all prepared an’ of the 
very best.” 

The Professor glanced at the tray. 

“Why,” he exclaimed, in amazement, “this is 
something really fine, Mrs. Brady. I didn’t know 
you were getting up a holiday breakfast.” 

Visions of slopped-over trays, weak coffee and 
hard toast passed before him, for Mrs. Brady 
was not a cook to boast of. 

“I’ll eat it down here, if you’ve no objection,” 
he continued kindly, lifting the covers and glanc- 
ing curiously underneath. “By Jove, this is 
something like. Omelet, and what are those 
luscious looking things?” 

“They be pop-overs, sir, if I’m not misthaken.” 

“Pop-overs, ahem! Pve heard the name be- 
fore.” He sniffed the small coffee pot. “Good 
and strong; you’ve anticipated my wants this 
morning, Mrs. Brady.” 

“Why doesn’t he go on and eat?” thought the 
red-haired cook. “The omelet will be ruined.” 


TWO CHRISTMAS BREAKFASTS 243 

But the Professor had drawn up a chair to the 
kitchen table and was draining the orange juice 
at a gulp. 

‘^You’re getting very festive, Mrs. Brady. 
Have you been taking lessons in my absence? 
That orange juice was just the appetizer I needed 
this morning.’^ Then he fell to on the breakfast 
and never stopped until he had eaten every crumb 
and drained the coffee pot to the dregs. 

In the meantime Molly had taken a seat on the 
pantry floor. A weakness had invaded her knees 
and her head swam dizzily, since she had had no 
breakfast that morning. 

suppose Judy will think Pm dead,^^ she 
thought, 'Tut it won’t do her any harm to be 
guessing about me for once.” 

She hoped the Professor would leave in a mo- 
ment and go to his rooms. He had filled a short 
briar wood pipe and was leaning back in his 
chair musing, but he couldn’t stay forever in 
Mrs. Brady’s kitchen. 


244 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOE DAYS 

^^Mrs. Brady, that was a very dainty and de- 
licious little meal you prepared for me,’’ she heard 
him say. was a bit low in my mind but I feel 
cheered up. A cup of coffee — if it’s good — as 
this was — is often enough to restore a man’s am- 
bition.” And now the kitchen was filled with the 
fragrance of tobacco smoke while the Professor 
mused in his chair, blowing out great clouds at 
intervals. 

‘‘A bachelor is a poor pitiful soul, sir,” an- 
swered the woman ; ‘'now, if ye had a wife to look 
after ye, you’d be afther havin’ the like break- 
fasts ivery mornin’.” 

The Professor blew out a ring of purple smoke 
and watched it float lazily in the air and gradu- 
ally dissipate. 

“Didn’t you know I was a woman hater, Mrs. 
Brady?” 

“Indade, I should think ye might be, seein’ so 
many of them every day and all the time,” an- 
swered the housekeeper sympathetically. “Too 


TWO CHRISTMAS BREAKFASTS 245 
much of a good thing, sir. But, whin old age 
comes to ye, youTl miss ’em, sir. You’ll miss a 
good wife to look after your comforts then.” 

‘T’ve got something better than that for my old 
age, Mrs. Brady. I’ve got a bit of land; it’s an 
orchard on the side of a hill sloping down to a 
brook ” 

Molly, sitting on the pantry floor, felt a sud- 
den jolt as if some one had shaken her by the 
shoulder. Faintness came over her and her heart 
beat so fast and loud she wondered that the two 
in the kitchen did not hear its palpitations. 

‘^The trees bear plenty of apples ; I’ll have lots 
of fruit in my old age. I’ve only to hobble out 
and knock them down with my cane when I get 
too old to climb up and shake the limbs, and 
where once swung a hammock in my orchard I 
may build a little hut.” 

'Ht’s a pretty picture, sir, but lonely, I should 
say.” 

''Ah, well, Mrs. Brady, there’ll be four walls to 


246 MOLLY BKOWWS SENIOR DAYS 
my hut and every inch of those walls will be cov- 
ered with books/’ announced the Professor, as 
he strolled out of the kitchen, leaving the door 
ajar. 

Molly, now thoroughly exhausted, amazed, and 
quite faint from her emotions, was pulling herself 
to her knees when the Professor marched swiftly 
back into the room and walked into the pantry. 

‘1 wanted to see how much coffee you had 

left ” he began. ‘M’ll be writing for more ” 

His foot encountered something soft on the floor 
and glancing quickly down he caught a glimpse 
in the shadow of a figure huddled up in the cor- 
ner. The face was hidden in the curve of the 
elbow, but he saw the red hair, and a beam 
through a crack in the door cast a slanting light 
across the blue silk blouse. 

''Why, Molly Brown, my little friend,” he ex- 
claimed. And he lifted her to her feet and half 
carried her to a chair near the fire. "So it was 
you who cooked me that delicious Christmas 


TWO CHRISTMAS BREAKFASTS 247 
breakfast, and now you’re half dead from fa- 
tigue and hunger. You’ve had no breakfast, con- 
fess?” 

Molly lifted her eyes to his and shook her 
head. Then she lowered her gaze and blushed. 

'T’m too ashamed to think of breakfast,” she 
said. 

'"Mrs. Brady, put the kettle on,” ordered the 
Professor. ''Get out the eggs. Where’s the 
bacon ?” 

"In the jar, sliced, sir.” 

"But,” protested Molly. 

"Don’t say a word, child. Be perfectly 
quiet.” 

Then the Professor began to fly about the 
room, tearing into the pantry, rushing from the 
table to the stove and back again, rummaging in 
the refrigerator for oranges and butter, and up- 
setting two chairs that stood in his way. 

All this time Mrs. Brady quietly toasted bread 
and broiled bacon while there hovered on her lips 


248 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
an enigmatic smile. Then she scrambled two 
eggs while the Professor tested the coffee and 
squeezed an orange alternately. Molly watched 
him in dazed silence. 

‘'He bought the apple orchard and that is how 
I happen to be at Wellington this minute/’ she 
kept thinking mechanically. “He worked all 
summer and got into debt and caught typhoid 
fever in order to furnish me” — she choked — “and 
I spoke to him like that. No wonder he’s a wom- 
an hater — no wonder he wants books ” 

“Ready,” announced Mrs. Brady, and the next 
thing Molly knew she was sitting at the table 
drinking orange juice while the Professor but- 
tered toast and poured out the coffee. 

Presently it was all over. Two Christmas 
breakfasts had been prepared in Mrs. Brady’s 
kitchen that morning where none had been ex- 
pected. 

“ ’Twas lucky I’d laid in supplies,” exclaimed 
the genial Irish woman. “A body can never tell 


TWO CHEISTMAS BREAKFASTS 249 
what starvin’ crayture’s cornin’ to the door beg- 
gin’ for a crust.” 

And now Molly Brown found herself, almost 
without realizing it, walking across the college 
grounds beside her Professor. 

‘T can never, never thank you,” she was say- 
ing. "‘I couldn’t even try.” 

‘‘Don’t try,” he answered. ‘Indeed, I ought to 
thank you for introducing me to that lovely bit 
of orchard. As for the money, it was fairly cry- 
ing out to be invested. I think I made a great 
bargain.” 

“But Dodo said ” 

“Dodo talks too much,” said the Professor, 
frowning. “He knows nothing about me and my 
affairs.” 

“Anyhow, you’ll let me apologize for the way 
I answered you last night,” said Molly, giving 
him a heavenly smile. 

The Professor looked away quickly. 

“The apology is accepted,” he said gravely. 


250 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
^‘And now we are friends once more, Miss Molly 
Brown of Kentucky, are we not 

‘'Yes, indeed,’' cried Molly joyfully, feeling 
happy enough to dance at that moment. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

FACING THF FNFMY. 

It was a joyous day when Judy returned to 
college just before mid-years, after her long exile 
in the back room of O'Reilly’s. She was made 
welcome by all her particular friends who killed 
the ''potted" calf, as Edith called it, in honor of 
the prodigal's return. 

And Judy was well content with herself and 
all the world. A hair-dresser in Wellington had, 
by some mysterious process, restored her hair to 
very nearly its natural shade. Thanks to Molly, 
chiefly, and the others, she was well up in her 
lessons and quite prepared to breast the mid-year 
wave of examinations with the class. Never had 
the three friends at No. 5 been more gloriously, 
radiantly happy than now on the verge of final 


251 


252 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOR DAYS 
examinations. And then one day, in the midst 
of all this serenity and peace, Adele Windsor 
dropped in to call on Judy. At once Nance fled 
from the apartment. She could not bear the 
sight of this sinister young woman. Molly would 
have gone, too, but she remained, at an imploring 
glance from Judy, and slipped quietly into the 
next room, leaving the door ajar. 

‘'Judy knows she can call for help if she needs 
it,’' she thought rather complacently, for she was 
no longer afraid of that arch mischief-maker. 

As for Judy, she was singularly polite, but cold 
in her manner, and Molly detected a certain 
tremulousness in her voice. 

“She’s scared, poor dear,” thought Molly in- 
dignantly. “Now, I wonder why?” 

“I haven’t seen you for weeks,” Adele began 
in her sharp, assured tone. “Where have you 
been? I heard you had gone home.” 

“I was away for some time,” answered Judy 
evasively. 


FACING THE. ENEMY 253 

hope and trust she thinks I have gone out 
with Nance/^ thought Molly in the next room, 
feeling a good deal like a conspirator. ^'SheTl 
never come to the point if she knows Fm here, 
and rd just like her to show her cards for once. 
It will be a glorious chance to get rid of her for- 
ever more, amen.'' 

The light of battle came into Molly's eyes. ^T 
feel like a knight pricking o'er the plain to slay 
a dragon," she thought, waving an imaginary 
sword in the air. 'When it's all over I wish I 
had the nerve to say, 'Thou wretched, rash, in- 
truding fool, farewell.' " 

She gathered that Adele had moved more 
closely to Judy, for she heard her voice from a 
new quarter of the room saying: 

"Is it true that you were dropped?" 

There was a moment's pause. 

"Whatever happened, Adele, it's over now and 
I am installed again and forgiven." 

"I thought you were being rather reckless, 


^54 MOLLY BROWY^S ^LNIOR DAYS 
Judy. The rope ladder business was bad enough, 
but those ghost walks were really dangerous; 
really you went too far 

‘1 beg your pardon,’’ interrupted Judy stiffly. 
‘‘You are on the wrong track. I wasn’t the 
campus ghost.” 

“Now, really, Judy, my dearest friend,” cried 
Adele, seizing both of Judy’s hands and looking 
into her eyes with an expression of gentle tolera- 
tion, “why can’t you confide in me? After all 
our good times are you going to give me the cold 
shoulder? I know perfectly well that you were 
the ghost. Have I forgotten the night you 
planned the whole thing out ? Anne White was 
there. I daresay she remembers it quite as well 
as I do. Of course, we thought you were enjoy- 
ing yourself frightening the life out of people, 
but we wondered, both of us, how you dared. I 
remember you said how easy it would be to chase 
girls if they ran, and how easy to escape be- 
cause you were the swiftest runner in college. 


FACING THE ENEMY 255 

Why are you trying to deceive your old partner? 
Especially as I happen to know that you had the 
rope ladder all that time. It would have been 
easy enough. Oh, Tm on to you, subtle, secretive 
Judy. You are a clever little girl, but Fm on to 
you.’’ 

‘‘What does she want?” Molly breathed to her- 
self in the next room. 

“But I won’t tease you any longer, dearest. I 
only wanted to let you know that I’m at the very 
bottom of the secret. I came to talk about other 
things.” 

Molly breathed a long sigh. 

“Here it comes,” she thought. 

Judy straightened up and prepared to hear the 
worst. 

“Have the Shakespeareans and the 011a Pod- 
ridas had their yearly conclave yet about new 
members?” 

“So it’s that,” Molly almost cried aloud, wav- 
ing her arms over her head. 


256 MOLLY BROW]Sr\S SENIOR DAYS 

‘We meet on Saturday/' answered Judy dog- 
gedly. 

“You have a good deal of influence in that 
crowd, haven't you ? I mean you can command a 
lot of votes ?" 

“No, I can't command any," answered Judy. 

“Blackmailer," thought Molly. 

“I was thinking," went on Adele calmly, “that 
I would like to become a member of one or both 
those clubs. If I have to make a choice I would 
prefer the Shakespeareans, of course. Can't you 
fix it up?" 

“I'm afraid not, Adele. I can’t manage it. I 
doubt if I could command any votes for you, You 
are mistaken about my influence." 

“Oh yes, you can. Now, Judy, think a minute. 
I'm asking you a very simple, ordinary favor. 
Think of what it means to me and — well, to you, 
too. I might as well tell you right now that I'm 
a good friend but a bad enemy. You promised 
me once to get me into one of those clubs. Do 
you remember ?" 


FACING THE ENEMY 257 

"'Yes/' said Judy. 

“Well, why this sudden change? I expect you 
to keep your word. I am wild to be a member of 
the Shakespeareans," here Adele changed her 
manner and her voice took on a soft, persuasive 
tone. “You won't regret it, Judy, dearest, you'll 
be proud of having put me up. I have a real tal- 
ent for acting. I have, indeed, and I shall be able 
to get stunning costumes." 

Judy twisted and squirmed and shrunk away 
like a bird being gradually hypnotized by a ser- 
pent — at least so it seemed to Molly peeping 
through a crack in the door. 

“I tell you it will be impossible," Judy was say- 
ing, after a pause, when Adele burst out with : 

“Those are unlucky words, Judy Kean. I'll 

make you sorry you ever spoke " she stopped 

short off as Molly appeared in one door and 
Nance in the other, followed by Otoyo, Margaret 
and Jessie and the Williams sisters. Nance had 
evidently gone forth and gathered in the clan for 


258 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
Judy's protection. Molly was almost sorry they 
had come. It had been a good opportunity to say 
what had been seething in her mind for some 
time, and, on the whole, she decided she would 
say it anyhow. 

With a bold spirit and a scornful eye, she 
marched into the room and stood before the as- 
tonished Adele. 

“Miss Windsor," she said, and she hardly rec- 
ognized her own voice, so deep and vibrant were 
its tones, “did you ever hear of snakey-noodles ? 
Snakey-noodles ! snakey-noodles ! snakey-noo- 
dles!" she repeated three times like a magic in- 
cantation. 

Judy must have thought that she had suddenly 
lost her mind, for she glanced at her with a 
frightened look and the other girls with difficulty 
concealed their smiles. Edith, whose keen per- 
ceptions at once informed her that something was 
up, took a seat by the window where she could 
command a good view of the entire proceedings. 


FACING THE ENEMY 259 

Adele, looking into Molly’s honest, stern eyes, 
shrank a little and started to rise. 

“No, I shan’t let you go until I have finished,” 
said Molly. “Whenever the spirit moves you to 
ask a favor of Judy again, just say the word 
snakey-noodles over several times to yourself and 
then I think you’ll leave Judy alone. Now, you 
may go, and remember that people who tell ma- 
licious, wicked stories, who impersonate ghosts, 
steal luncheons and get other girls into trouble 
are not welcome at Wellington. This is not that 
kind of a college.” 

It was, of course, a random shot about the 
campus ghost, but Molly put it in, feeling fairly 
certain that none but the daring Adele would 
have attempted that escapade. 

“Remember, too,” she added, as a parting shot, 
“that girls don’t get into clubs here by blackmail. 
Even if Judy had put you up, you wouldn’t have 
had the ghost of a chance.” 

Nobody was more interested than Edith in 


260 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
wondering what the strange Adele would do now. 
‘Will she defend herself or will she fly?^^ Edith 
asked herself. But Adele did the most surprising 
thing yet. She burst into tears. 

“You have no right to speak to me as you did/’ 
she wept into a scented and hand-embroidered 
handkerchief. 

“Haven’t I?” said Molly, drawing her gently 
but firmly to the door. “Well, go to your room 
and think about it a while and see if you don’t 
change your mind.” And with that she quietly 
thrust Adele into the hall, closed the door and 
locked it. 

Then, such a burst of subdued laughter rose 
within No. 5 as was never heard before. Molly 
collapsed on the sofa while the girls gathered 
around her. Judy sat on the floor, her head rest- 
ing on Molly’s shoulder. 

“It was as good as a play,” cried Edith. “I 
never saw anything finer. Molly, you’re certainly 
full of surprises. But what .did you mean by 
snakey-noodles ? Wasn’t it beautiful?” 


FACING THE ENEMY 261 

Then Molly explained to them about the 
snakey-noodle box. 

course, the rest was just wild guessing, 
but from the way she took it Tm pretty sure Fm 
right.^^ 

'It was better than jiu-jitsu,’' said Otoyo. "It 
was, I think, the jiu-jitsu of language.” 

They all laughed at this quaint notion, and 
Molly relaxed on the couch like a very tired young 
warrior after the battle. 

"Judy, you’re foolish to be afraid of that girl,” 
said Margaret sternly. 

"Fm not exactly afraid of her,” answered 
Judy, "but you see it would have gone particularly 
hard with me just now to have her go to Miss 
Walker with that story about the ghost. It was 
true that one evening, in a wicked humor, I 
planned the whole thing with her and that little 
Anne who is just as afraid of her as I suppose I 
am. I don’t think Miss Walker would have given 
me another chance. Everything would have been 


262 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
against me, the rope ladder and all the things I 
had said/' 

‘'But then you could have proved an alibi,” said 
Nance. “You were up here the night the ghost 
chased Molly and me.” 

“So I could,” Judy exclaimed. “I was so scared 
I forgot all about that night. There's something 
about Adele that makes you lose your senses. 
She leans over you and looks at you and talks to 
you in a hot, rapid sort of way. I just saw my- 
self, after all the trouble everybody had taken 
with me, being sent away in disgrace. I didn't 
believe I could prove anything when she began 
talking. I just went under.” 

“Well, don't you ever do it again,” put in 
Nance. 

“Say 'snakey-noodles' the next time she comes 
at you,” said Edith. “Oh, dear, that exquisite 
name,” she continued, leaning back in her chair 
so as to indulge in a fit of silent laughter. 

“I can tell you another interesting bit about 


FACING THE ENEMY 263 

this Miss Windsor/’ here put in pretty Jessie. 
''Do you remember that shabby little woman in 
black who came down on the same train with 
Molly’s Mr. Lufton?” 

"Nonsense,” broke in Molly. 

"I remember her,” said Judy. "Adele said she 
was a dressmaker, I believe.” 

"Well, she told the truth for once. She is a 
dressmaker, but she happens to be Adele’s 
mother, too.” 

"Her mother,” they gasped in chorus. 

"Yes. When Mama and I were in New 
York for the Christmas holidays, we were rec- 
ommended to go to a French place called 'An- 
nette’s’ for some clothes. There was a French 
woman named Annette who came out and showed 
us things, but the head of the establishment was 
Mrs. Windsor. And we saw Adele hanging 
around several times. We also saw Adele’s 
father, very dressy with a flower in his button- 
hole and yellow gloves. He smiled sweetly at me 


264 MOLLY BKOWN’S SENIOK DAYS 
in the hall. The fitter told us secretly that Mrs. 
Windsor spent everything she made on Adele 
and Mr. Windsor.’’ 

'What a shame,” cried Judy, "and Adele 
throws money around like water.” 

"No wonder she wears such fine clothes. I 
suppose Annette makes all of them.” 

"Thank heavens, we’re rid of her forever,” ex- 
claimed Molly. "It’s not difficult to find a spot 
of good in the worst of people. There were 
Minerva Higgins and Judith Blount and Frances 
Andrews. I never did feel hopeless about them, 
but this Adele, who doesn’t recognize her own 
mother — well ” 

"Ah, well,” broke in Otoyo. "She is what we 
call in Japan 'evil spirit,’ or 'black spirit.’ She 
will not remain because there are so many good 
spirits. She will fly away.” 

"On a broomstick,” put in Edith. 

"But Minerva Higgins, there is some greatly 
big news about her. You have not heard?” 


FACING THE ENEMY 


265 


‘'No/’ they cried. Otoyo had become quite a 
little news body among her friends. 

“She will not finish the course. She will be 
married in June to learned gentleman, a professor 
of languages of death ” 

“You mean dead languages,” put in Molly, 
laughing. 

“Ah, well, it is the same.” 

“That is why Minerva looks so gay and blush- 
ing,” said Jessie. “I saw her this morning read- 
ing a letter on one of the corridor benches. I 
might have guessed it was a love letter from her 
expression of supreme joy.” 

“I wonder if it was written in Sanskrit.” 

“I suppose after they marry they will have 
Latin for breakfast, Greek for dinner and ancient 
Hebrew for supper,” observed Katherine. 

“But the gold medals, what of them ?” 

“They will be saved for Pallas Athene, and 
Socrates, and Alcibiades Plato, of course,” said 
Edith. 


266 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
“Who are they?” 

“Why, the children, goosie,” and the party 
broke up with a laugh. 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE jubilee. 

Molly Brown, in a state of wild excitement, 
rushed into No. 5 one morning waving a slip of 
yellow paper in her hand. 

‘'They're coming," she cried ecstatically but 
vaguely. 

“Who?" demanded her two bosom friends 
from the floor where they were engaged in fitting 
a paper pattern to a strip of velvet much too nar- 
row. 

“My brother and sister, Minnie and Kent. 
Isn't it glorious? They get here to-morrow 
morning to stay for the Jubilee. Oh, I'm so 
happy, I am so happy," she sang. 

“I'm so glad," said the two friends in one 
breath. 


26 ? 


268 MOLLY BEOWN’S SENIOR DAYS 

‘Tm getting rooms for them at O'Reilly's and 
they will arrive on the ten train. Isn't it lucky 
Mrs. O'Reilly is our bright, particular friend? 
We never could have got the rooms. Everything 
in the village is taken." 

The crowds had indeed come pouring into 
Wellington for the great Jubilee celebration for 
which every student at the college had been 
working for months past. And now, almost the 
first of May, everything was in readiness, the 
pageants, the costumes, the plays — all the splen- 
did and complicated arrangements for an Old 
English May Day Festival. Judy, as she had 
planned on the opening night of college all those * 
long months ago, was to be a gentleman of the 
court and was now engaged in constructing a 
velvet cape with Nance's assistance. Further- 
more all the girls were to take part in the senior 
outdoor, play to be given on the afternoon of the 
Jubilee celebration, and Molly, wonderful as it 
seemed to her afterward, had won for herself by 


THE JUBILEE 


269 


excellent recitation the part of Rosalind. There 
had been many Rosalind competitors but Profes- 
sor Green and the professional who had come 
down to coach chose Molly from them all. 

How they had practiced and rehearsed and 
worked over that play not one of the senior cast 
will ever forget. But now it was ready and the 
time was ripe for the grand performance. In 
two days it was to take place. 

The next morning, in response to the telegram, 
the three friends met Molly’s brother and sister at 
the station. They were a good looking pair, as 
Nance pronounced them, but not the least like 
Molly. Minnie or Mildred Brown was as pretty 
as Molly in her way. She had an aquiline nose 
that spoke of family, brown hair curling bewitch- 
ingly about her face and a beautifully modeled 
mouth and chin. Kent was different, too — tall 
with gravely humorous gray eyes, his mouth 
rather large and shapely, his nose a little small — 
but he was very handsome and his manners were 


m MOLLY BBOWN’S SEKTOB DAYS 
perfection. He took to Judy at once. She 
amused and mystified him and she volunteered 
after lunch to show him all the sights of Wel- 
lington. Another visitor at Wellington was 
Jimmy Lufton, who had come down to see the 
celebration regardless of work and expenses, and 
ordered Molly a beautiful bouquet of narcissus 
to be handed to her when she appeared as Rosa- 
lind. 

Molly introduced him to Kent and Minnie and 
the three were soon good friends and looking for 
the best places along the campus to see the sights, 
while Molly rushed off to attire herself for the 
morning as a Maypole dancer. Old Wellington 
presented a strange and unusual aspect on that 
beautiful May morning. Far back under the 
trees gathered the people of the pageant wait- 
ing for the cue to start the march. Carts drawn 
by yokes of oxen rumbled along the avenue, filled 
with rustics from the country, mostly freshmen 
dressed in all manner of early English costumes. 


THE JUBILEE 


271 


There were shepherds and shepherdesses, maids 
of low and high degree. Gentlemen of the court 
and plow boys in smock frocks elbowed each 
other on the green. Booths had been set up of a 
seventeenth century pattern, where anachronisms 
in the form of modern refreshments were sold. 

Bands of singers and rustic dancers trooped 
by, jesters in cap and bells, page boys and trump- 
eters. A more animated and brilliantly colored 
scene would be difficult to imagine. 

Providence had smiled on Wellington’s Jubilee 
and sent a glorious day for the May Day Festi- 
val. It was an early spring and everything that 
could do honor to the day had burst into blossom : 
daffodils that bordered the lawns of the campus 
houses nodded their delicate yellow heads in the 
morning sunlight ; clumps of lilac bushes formed 
bouquets of purple and white and from an oc- 
casional old apple tree showers of pink petals 
fell softly on the grass. 

‘Tt’s almost as beautiful as Kentucky, Kent,” 


272 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
observed Mildred Brown, and Jimmy Lufton 
laughed joyfully. 

'‘Almost, but not quite,’' he said. "In Ken^ 
tucky there would be twice as much of every- 
thing, and, besides the elms, there would be beech 
trees and maples with a good sprinkling of wal- 
nut and locust.” 

"Twice as many Mildreds, too,” observed Kent. 
"But for my part I think the young ladies I have 
seen here are quite as pretty as the girls at home.” 

"I think you’d have a hard time finding two to 
match Miss Molly and Miss Mildred,” put in 
Jimmy, looking with admiration at the charming 
Mildred, dressed in a cool white linen, a broad 
brimmed straw hat trimmed with pink roses shad- 
ing her face. 

"There’s Miss Judy Kean,” argued Kent. 

What would this young man have thought if 
at that moment he could have had a glimpse of 
the fair Judy dressed as a court gentleman in 
lavender satin knickers, a long cape of purple 


THE JUBILEE 


273 


velvet, an immense cavalier hat with a great 
plume and over her shapely mouth a flaring yel- 
low mustachio ? 

And all of our other friends, how strange and 
unnatural they seemed. Their most intimate 
friends would scarcely have recognized them. 
Margaret was a fat, jolly Falstaff, stuffed out to 
immense proportions. Edith was entirely dis- 
guised as a jester and enjoyed her own quips 
immensely when she tapped a visitor on the shoul- 
der with her bauble and said, ^'Good morrow, fair 
maid, art looking for a swain?’" 

And now four little heralds advanced down the 
campus bearing long trumpets, antique in shape, 
on which the sun sparkled brilliantly. At the 
center of the campus they paused and blew four 
long resonant blasts and then cried in one voice : 

‘‘Make way for their Majesties, the King and 
Queen, and all the Royal Court.” And the pag- 
eant began to unwind its sinuous length along the 
campus lawn, and all the rustic players who 


274 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
formed the rabble fell in behind the royal per- 
sonages and their brilliant train. 

It was really a wonderfully beautiful picture, 
one to be remembered always with pride by Wel- 
lingtonians and with pleasure by outsiders who 
had gathered by the hundreds on the lawn. After 
the pageant came the May pole dancers and the 
wandering musicians, the Morality Play and the 
rustic dances. 

There were hundreds of things to see. Mil- 
dred Brown, rushing from one charming per- 
formance to another, felt almost as if it really 
was an old English May Day Festival. The spirit 
of the actor rustics pervaded her and she was full 
of excitement and wonder at the whole marvel- 
ous performance. 

At last the entire company gathered in front of 
the now historic site of Queen's Cottage and there 
amid the shrubbery and the tall old forest trees 
the seniors gave their performance of '‘As You 
Like It." 


THE JUBILEE 275 

don’t believe Marlowe and Sothern could do 
it a bit better,” exclaimed Mildred proudly. 
“Aren’t they wonderful?” 

“Isn’t Miss Molly wonderful?” said Jimmy 
Lufton. 

“Yes, indeed, I am proud of my little sister to- 
day, prouder than ever of her.” 

A man in a gray suit fanning himself with a 
straw hat turned around and looked at Mildred 
curiously. His face was lined with fatigue, for 
nobody had worked harder than he over the Fes- 
tival. But he was not too tired to be interested in 
Mildred Brown. 

“So they are the brother and sister,” he said 
to himself. “And a very good-looking pair they 
are. I must try and meet them to-morrow. Ask 
them to tea in the Quadrangle. Miss Molly 
would like that, I think. But not that young Luf- 
ton,” he added half angrily. “Not that young 
buccaneering newspaper fellow.” 

“Professor Green,” said Mrs. McLean, stand- 


276 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
ing next to him, "‘I think we owe most of the 
success of this day to you. But how about that 
charming Rosalind? Did you train her to act 
so prettily?’’ 

“No,” he replied, “I couldn’t do that. It’s in 
her already. One has only to bring it out.” 

Among the flowers which were handed over 
the row of potted cedars to Molly after that 
charming performance was a big bunch of yellow 
daffodils, and tied to the yellow ribbon was a 
large yellow apple. 

“You’ve won your second golden apple to-day, 
Miss Molly, and I am proud of my pupil,” read 
the card attached. 


CHAPTER XXL 


FAR^WElylyS. 

The rest of the time until graduation was like 
a dream to Molly and her friends whose hearts 
were filled with a sort of two-pronged homesick- 
ness; homesickness for home and for Wellington, 
which now they were about to leave forever more. 

A great many things happened in the space 
that intervened between the first of May and the 
eighteenth of June, when graduation occurred. 
There were dances at Exmoor and dances at Wel- 
lington and the senior reception to the juniors. 
Then there were long quiet evenings when the 
old crowd gathered in No. 5 and talked of the 
future. 

It was on one of these warm summer nights 
that they were draped as usual about the couches 


277 


278 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
in the mellow glimmer of one Japanese lantern. 
Judy, thrumming on the guitar, sang: 

'When all the world is young, lad. 

And all the trees are green ; 

And every goose a swan, lad. 

And every lass a queen ; 

Then hey for boot and horse, lad. 

And round the world away ; 

Young blood must have its course, lad, 

And every dog his day. 

" 'When all the world is old, lad. 

And all the trees are brown ; 

And all the sport is stale, lad. 

And all the wheels run down ; 

Creep home and take your place there, 

The spent and maimed among : 

God grant you find one face there. 

You loved when all was young.^ 

"My, that makes me sad,’" said Jessie. "I feel 
that I’ve already lived my life and am coming 
back to old Wellington to die with a lot of other 
decrepit old persons who used to be young and 
beautiful.” 

"Thanks for the compliment about looks,” said 


FAEEWELLS 


279 


Edith. *‘But I don’t feel that way. Fm going 
forth to conquer. I am going to write books and 
books before I come home to die.” 

*'rm going to write books, too,” announced 
Molly meekly, “but I feel that Fm not ready to 
begin yet ” 

“You can’t begin too young,” interrupted 
Edith. 

“I know, but Fm coming back for a post grad, 
course in” — Molly hesitated, she hardly knew 
why — “in English and — and a few other things. 
Fve got no style ” 

“What, are you really coming back?” they 
cried. 

“Nance and I have decided to return,” replied 
Molly. “We are not ready to join the ranks yet, 
are we, Nance? Dear Nance is going to polish 
up her French literature. Fll be busy enough. I 
expect to do a lot of tutoring and other profitable 
work.” 

“What shall I do?” groaned Judy. “I don’t 


280 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
want to study any more, and, yet, how can I bear 
for you two to be at Wellington without me to 
bother you.’’ 

Molly looked at her and smiled. 

''Remember, you are to come home with me 
this summer, Judy, and maybe you’ll like Ken- 
tucky so wd\ you’ll want to stay there.” 

Molly was well aware that her brother Kent 
had fallen in love with Judy at first sight, and it 
didn’t occur to her that anybody could resist the 
charms of her favorite brother. 

"Margaret, why don’t you come back?” asked 
Nance. 

"Not me,” answered Margaret. "I hear the 
voice of suffrage calling!” 

"We all of us hear voices calling,” broke in 
Katherine. "And each is a different voice ac- 
cording to our natures. Now Margaret’s voice 
is soprano, but Jessie hears a deep baritone ” 

"Nothing of the sort,” cried Jessie. 

" ’Fess up, now, Jessie, when is it to be?” 


FAREWELLS 


281 


The girls all gathered around pretty Jessie and 
at last, hard pressed, she said : 

‘‘When it does come off you’ll have to assemble 
from the four quarters of the globe to act as 
bridesmaids, but the day’s not set yet.” 

“Have you decided on the man ?” asked Edith. 

“Edith, how can you?” answered Jessie, laugh- 
ing. 

“What are you going to do, Katherine ?” asked 
Molly, when the excitement had quieted down. 

“Teach,” answered Katherine bluntly. “I 
loathe the thing, but a place awaits me, so I sup- 
pose next winter will find me sitting behind a 
little table, ringing a bell sharply, and saying, 
‘Now, girls, pay attention, please.’ ” She turned 
her large melancholy eyes on her sister. “Edith 
thinks she’s the only writer in the family, but in 
the intervals of teaching I intend to surprise her. 
I’ve already had one short story accepted by an 
obscure but bona fide magazine which hasn’t sent 
me a check yet.” 


282 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 


“Have you heard the joke on Katherine?'’ put 
in Edith. 

“Do tell/' they cried, while Katherine said 
fiercely: “Now, Edith, you promised to keep that 
a secret." 

“It's too good to keep. She chose for the sub- 
ject of her graduating essay ‘The Juvenile De- 
linquent,' and got it all written and then it oc- 
curred to her that Miss Walker would announce 
‘The Juvenile Delinquent, Katherine Williams,' 
and she could not stand the implication." 

“Poor Katherine," they cried, laughing joy- 
ously. 

And now Molly was handing around nut cake 
and cloud bursts, it seemed almost for the last 
time, and after that these bright spirits in ki- 
monos flitted away to their rooms. 

A little later, after darkness and quiet had de- 
scended, an ecstatic little giggle broke from Judy, 
lying alone and staring at the dim outline of her 
window. It was too soft a sound to disturb the 


FAREWELLS 


283 


tired sleepers in the adjoining rooms, but it meant 
that Judy had an idea, — an idea that she could 
see already realized by the aid of her remarkable 
imagination. 

Her mind had been reviewing the talk of the 
evening and revolving about each of the girls in 
turn; — Edith and Katherine and Molly, literary 
and ambitious; Nance, serious and studious; Jes- 
sie, pretty, romantic and destined for marriage; 
and Margaret, the able and willing champion of 
suffrage. And Judy had smiled as she began to 
recall certain hours when Margaret’s enthusiasm 
had waxed high, even so far back as Freshman 
year, and her first class presidency. That thought 
had started others, and as Judy remembered vari- 
ous amusing incidents of the four years, her 
‘"idea” had flashed upon her. It was then that 
Judy had hugged herself and laughed aloud, but 
it was several nights later that she shared with 
the other girls her inspiration. 

They had gathered in Otoyo’s little room that 


284 MOLLY BKO'WN’S SENIOR DAYS 
night, — just the eight close friends who now 
grasped every opportunity for one more good 
time together. They were a little inclined to sad- 
ness, for they had all been busy with those extra 
duties that point directly to the closing days of 
college life. 

Some had posed before the class photographer’s 
camera, some had borne the weariness of having 
gowns fitted, and at least two had practiced their 
parts for the commencement exercises. 

Margaret and Jessie were humming the chorus 
of one of the Senior class songs and Otoyo was 
just beginning to make the tea, when Judy 
slipped out of the room with a word of excuse 
and a promise to return. 

Molly turned lazily to Nance who sat close be- 
side her on the couch and whispered, “J^^y is as 
nervous as a witch these days. She has prob- 
ably thought of something to add to her list!” 

''Oh, that list!” returned Nance. "She has 
everything on it now from white gloves to a 
trunk strap, and still it grows!” 


FAREWELLS 


^85 


‘Seniors, seniors, seniors,' " chanted Mar- 
garet and Jessie dreamily, watching Otoyo as 
she deftly arranged her dainty cups and saucers 
on beautiful lacquered trays. 

Edith and Katherine were quietly disputing 
some point about the class program and absent- 
mindedly accepting lemon for their tea, when the 
door opened and a woman draped closely in black 
stepped into the room. 

“Ah, ha, young ladies," she cried in a high, 
weird voice that startled them into instant si- 
lence, “so you would pierce the mysterious veil of 
the future and read in your teacups the fortune 
that awaits you? Could you but possess my oc- 
cult vision, you would not need to employ such 
puerile methods." 

Here the somber figure raised two black-gloved 
arms and held before her eyes a pair of plain 
black opera glasses. She had reversed their 
usual position and now gazed steadily about the 
room through the large end of the glasses. 


286 MOLLY BROWFS SENIOR PAYS 

“Ah, ha/* she began again, fixing her roving 
attention upon Margaret, who returned her gaze 
easily, “I see far, far away, through a vista of 
crowded seats, a huge platform adorned with 
distinguished figures. A pretty woman stun- 
ningly gowned is introducing to a breathlessly 
expectant audience a tall, striking person. The 
plaudits of the multitude drown the sound of her 
name as it is announced, but our keen sight en- 
ables us to recognize the famous Miss Wake- 
field! To those who have long known her, it 
will not be surprising to learn that her com- 
panion is none other than her college satellite, 
now Miss Jessie, — but I cannot quite pronounce 
the unfamiliar name.’^ 

As the voice stopped for a moment, Jessie 
started toward the strange figure, but Margaret 
pulled her back and drew her blushing face down 
upon her own shoulder. 

At the same time Molly cried, ''Where have I 
seen those shabby old glasses before?’’ 


FAREWELLS 


287 


And Nance added, “My old bird glasses, or 
Fm blind!’’ 

Nothing daunted, the prophetess went on in 
the same weird key, “I see the gray towers of 
Wellington looming grandly against a wild au- 
tumnal sky. I see troops of girls crowding across 
the campus and into recitation rooms. I see a 
single figure walking beside the white-haired 
President as though discussing the schedule of 
lectures and the merits of students, and the figure 
is that of Miss Oldham, — dear old Nance!” And 
the voice of the soothsayer broke suddenly as she 
turned the glasses on Nance and Molly. 

Then she hurried on, “By forcing my keen 
vision to its utmost capacity, I am able to read 
upon certain profound text books the names of 
their joint compilers, Edith and Katherine Wil- 
liams, the world-famed writers!” 

Again the voice paused as the glasses were lev- 
eled at the friendly disputants, long since quieted 
by the eloquence of the seer. 


m MOLLY BROWJ^^S SENIOR DAYS 

All this time Otoyo had stood spellbound beside 
her teapot. Now she started slightly as the 
glasses glimmered in her direction. 

‘‘Oh, no, no, no,’' she cried in real distress. 
“Don’t tell me, please, Mees Kean !” 

At that, Judy flung the draperies back from 
her hair, the glasses to Nance, and her arms 
about Otoyo, exclaiming at the same moment : 

“You precious child, I don’t know any more 
than your little Buddha does about your future, 
but the gods will be good to you and we’ll leave it 
to them.” 


CHAPTER XXIL 


the: final days. 

Now as suddenly as she had tossed aside her 
head coverings, Judy dropped her long loose 
cloak upon the floor and stood revealed clad in 
motley raiment indeed. In an instant all that she 
had said was forgotten as the girls crowded 
around examining her curiously. 

“Why, Judy Kean, where did you find that old 
necktie?’' cried Molly, as she spied a long fa- 
miliar article fastened at Judy’s throat. 

“And my Russian princess mufif!” exclaimed 
Nance. “It was hidden with my treasures at the 
very bottom of my trunk!” 

“And do I not behold my favorite Shelley?” 
chimed in Edith, seizing a book that dangled by 
a cord from Judy’s waist. 


289 


290 MOLLY BKOWN’S SENIOK DAYS 

'‘And I — surelee it is my veree ancient kimono 
that hangs behind?” inquired Otoyo curiously. 

"I have it,” announced judicial Margaret. 
"Judy Kean is now a symbol. She represents us. 
Upon her noble person she carries the intimate 
souvenirs of our various stages of collegiate 
growth. Yea, verily, I recognize mine own.” 

With that, Margaret tried to claim a gorgeous 
yellow pennant that flaunted its aggressive motto 
in a panel-like arrangement on Judy's dress. 

Judy dodged Margaret’s attempt and lifting 
her hand dramatically exclaimed in oratorical 
tones : 

"You have guessed. I am indeed the spirit of 
our college days. I represent History, and the 
tokens that I wear mark the incidents of humor, 
pathos, and tragedy that were the crises in our 
young careers. You will pardon me, I know, 
when I tell you that I have rummaged reverently 
among your personal ‘estates,’ as Otoyo used to 
say, seeing, touching, disturbing none but the 


THE FINAL DAYS 291 

significant articles before you. Behold the his- 
tory of these departing years!'’ 

As Judy swung slowly about before their inter- 
ested eyes, something chinked and clinked gently, 
like glass meeting glass. Molly's long arm shot 
out and grasped the jingling articles. A not- to- 
be-suppressed shout broke forth as she displayed 
a china pig and a small bottle of blue-black fluid 
labeled ''Hair-dye, — black." 

"Oh, Judy, Judy," cried Molly, "if you haven't 
discovered another Martin Luther, the ghost of 
the hero of my Junior days I Give him to me and 
I will feed him faithfully next year, — by the slow 
earnings of my pen, I will!" 

Meanwhile, Jessie was laughing over the tell- 
tale bottle of hair-dye, and secretly every one was 
rejoicing that Judy, too, could look back upon 
that supremely foolish escapade and laugh as 
heartily as any of them at her own expense. 

And now Nance claimed her muff, — the one 
survivor of the three cotton-batting masterpieces 


292 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
made for the skating carnival of Sophomore 
year, — and as she thrust her hands inside, they 
encountered a long, hard object. She drew it out 
and with a flourish waved above her head a clean, 
meatless but unmistakable ham bone ! 

The laugh was directed toward Molly now, and 
to turn it again she exclaimed, '‘What do I see 
gleaming upon your finger, Judy Kean? Verily, 
upon the third finger of your left hand?’’ 

Immediately the girls joined in the cry, chanted 
like a deep-toned school yell, "Tell us! Tell us! 
Tell us!” 

" 'Well, it was lent to me. It’s not mine. I 
simply promised to wear it for a few months,’ ” 
quoted Judy, imitating Jessie’s own protesting ex- 
planation so cleverly that even Otoyo recognized 
the source. "But it is only a five-cent diamond !” 
added Judy, shaking her head solemnly. "I might 
lose it, you know, and it would take more than a 
steely inspector to locate it in a man’s deep coat 
pocket !” 


THE FINAL DAYS !^93 

The girls cast sly glances at Molly, but she was 
intent on another discovery. Hanging under 
Edith’s shabby copy of Shelley was her own be- 
loved Rossetti ! Instantly she forgot the girls and 
their fun and saw for one fleeting moment a 
series of quickly moving mental pictures. First 
there flashed before her that Christmas when 
Professor Green had given her the little volume. 
Then she saw herself in the cloisters lost in the 
beauty of “The blessed damozel,” when he had 
appeared so unexpectedly. And finally she real- 
ized suddenly how much she loved the little worn 
volume and how she should always keep it to com- 
fort and inspire her. 

“ 'Come — back — to me, Sweetheart* ** sang 
Judy teasingly, and Molly came back with a start, 
only just realizing that she had been day-dream- 
ing. 

“What is this spiky thing that pricks through 
the folds of my aged sweater?” asked Katherine, 
who had recognized an old blue sweater that 


294 MOLLY BEOWN^S SENIOR DAYS 
Judy wore draped from her waist like a pannier. 

“This/' replied Judy, “is a bud that grew on a 
twig that grew on a bush that grew from the 
ground that marks the resting place of the ashes 
of Queen's, and to you, Katherine, as true his- 
torian of our noble class, do I present it." 

“In the name of futurity, I accept it," replied 
Katherine, not to be outdone in formality. 

“And now to appease the cravings of the inner 
man, permit me to share with you the contents of 
this hamper," continued Judy, opening a small 
basket that she carried on her arm. “Although 
not the original, lost-but-not- forgotten snakey- 
noodles, these are the best imitations that Made- 
leine Petit could make. And Molly the cook has 
contributed once more some of her justly famed 
cloud bursts, an indispensable exhibit in this un- 
equaled historical collection!" 

Warm and breathless, Judy sat down and be- 
gan to remove her borrowed plumes, while the 
girls, each holding aloft a snakey-noodle and a 


THE FINAL DAYS 295 

cloud burst, chanted appreciatively, ‘'What’s the 
matter with Julia Kean? She's all right!” 

***** Graduation at Wellington was old- 
fashioned and conventional. The girl graduates 
in white dresses filed onto the platform and took 
their seats in a semi-circle. Those who were so 
fortunate as to have relatives and friends in the 
large audience searched for their intimate fea- 
tures in the sea of upturned, interested faces. As 
glances met, smiles were fleetingly exchanged but 
quickly subdued on the part of the girls as the 
dignity of the day was borne in upon them anew. 

President Walker, never more sweet and wom- 
anly than in the formal attire demanded by her 
position, unconsciously inspired them all to imi- 
tate her fine simplicity and grace of manner. 
Tears sprang to the eyes of many girls as they 
looked at her and realized as never before that 
she had been the real center of all that had been 
best and most lasting in their college life. The 
girls who were to read essays, resolved that for 


296 HOLLY BROWN'S SENIOR DAYS 
the President's sake they would do well in spite 
of trembly knees and shaky hands. And of 
course they did, because in their determination to 
please Miss Walker and to reflect credit upon her 
and dear old Wellington they quite lost their 
paralyzing self-consciousness. The little buzz of 
pleased conversation that followed each number 
of the program as the applause died down was 
gratifying without doubt, but the students cared 
more deeply for the President's brief nod and 
smile of satisfaction. After the exercises came 
the diplomas, those strips of sheepskin for which 
our girls had striven so long and valiantly. It 
was almost a shock to clasp at last that precious 
token that had seemed so difficult of achievement 
in the far-away Freshman days. If to Molly it 
meant among other things value received for 
''two perfectly good acres of orchard," to Nance 
it marked a milestone of happy progress; to Mar- 
garet, Edith and Katharine it represented an in- 
teresting bit of current history; and to Judy and 


THE PINAL DAYS 


$97 


Jessie it signified a safe haven after many nar- 
row escapes from shipwreck. 

After the exciting day was over, came the class 
supper and then everybody did stunts. Edith 
read the class poem and Katherine was historian. 
Then the oldest girl and the prettiest girl and the 
class baby made speeches, and at the end came 
three cheers for Molly Brown, the most beloved 
in 19 — ; and Molly, trembling and blushing, rose 
and thanked them all and assured them that it 
was the greatest honor she had ever known ; and 
they made her sit on the table while they danced 
in a circle around it, singing: 

“Kerens to Molly Brown, 

Drink her down, drink her down, drink her 
down.’’ 

Thus the four years at Wellington came to an 
end as all good things must, and the day for the 
parting arrived. The ‘Trimavera” and the 
prayer rug were packed away in a box and 
shipped to Kentucky, because, after all, Molly 


298 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
might not return to Wellington. Who could tell 
what the fates had in store? Then came the 
good-byes. There were tears in their eyes and 
little choky sounds in their voices as they kissed 
and hugged and kissed again. 

Otoyo at that last meeting gave a present to 
each of the old crowd. She was smiling bravely, 
since it is not correct for a young Japanese lady 
to weep, and she kept reiterating : 

'1 shall mees you, greatlee, muchlee. It will 
not be the same at Wellington.’’ 

With Molly’s gift, a little carved ivory box, 
Otoyo handed a letter. 

promised to deliver it on the last day,” she 

said. 

'‘That sounds a good deal like the Judgment 
Day,” said Molly, laughing, as she tore open the 
envelope. The letter read : 

“The Campus Ghost and the Thief of Lunches 
has learned from you what nobody ever told her 
before : that honesty’s the best policy. I suppose 


THE FINAL DAYS 


299 


I always enjoyed the other way because I never 
was found out. But being found out is different. 
Honest people who have nothing to conceal are 
the happiest. I know that now, and henceforth 
the open and above-board for me. 

‘^Yours, 

Windsor.” 

Molly rolled the paper into a little ball and 
threw it away. Certainly the note of repentance 
did not sound very strong in Adele's letter. But 
perhaps it was only her way of putting it, and to 
be honest for any reason, no matter how remote 
from the right one, was something. 

‘'Anyhow, I hope she will think it's best policy 
to be nice to her poor, hard-working mother,” she 
thought indignantly. 

But Adele had already passed out of the lives 
of the Wellington girls and none of them ever 
saw her again. She did not return to college to 
finish out the senior course, and the hoodoo suite 
was dismantled forever of her fine trappings and 
furniture. 


300 


MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 


'1 have one more good-bye to say, girls,’’ said 
Molly to her friends a little while before train 
time. ‘Til meet you at the archway.” 

“You’ll miss the train,” called Nance. 

“And that would just spoil everything,” cried 
Judy. 

The three friends had planned to travel as far 
as Philadelphia together. There Nance would 
leave them to join her father, and Molly and 
Judy would continue their journey toward Ken- 
tucky. 

But Molly was already running down the cor- 
ridor, suitcase in one hand and jacket in the 
other. 

Down the steps she flew and out into the court 
toward the little door which opened into the clois- 
ters. Another dash and she was knocking on 
Professor Green’s door. 

“Come in,” he called, and she flew into the 
room breathlessly. 

“I came to say good-bye again,” she said. “I’ve 
only five minutes.” 


THE FINAL DAYS 301 

“Sit down/’ he said, drawing up a chair. 

“I wanted to ask you,” she went on, “if you 
wouldn’t come to Kentucky to visit us this sum- 
mer and — and see your property.” 

“How do you know it would be convenient for 
your mother to have me?” 

“Because it is always convenient for mother to 
entertain friends, and this is really her very own 
suggestion. Our house is big and besides that we 
have an office outside with three bedrooms for 
overflow.” 

The Professor looked thoughtful. Perhaps he 
was already forming a picture in his mind of the 
hammock beside the brook and the shady orchard, 
his orchard. 

“You will promise to come, won’t you?” per- 
sisted Molly. 

“Do you really want me ?” he asked. 

“Indeed, indeed I do.” 

“Perhaps,” he answered. 

“Good-bye, then,” she said, “or rather au re- 


302 MOLLY BROWNES SENIOR DAYS 
voir” and they clasped hands while the Profes- 
sor looked down into Molly^s eyes and smiled. 

He moved to the door like a sleep-walker and 
held it open for her as she hurried out. Then he 
went back to his desk and sat down in a sort of 
trance. The next instant the door was flung 
open again, footsteps hurried across the room 
and two arms slipped over his shoulders. 

‘'Do you remember what I said I was going to 
do some time to that old gentleman who bought 
the orchard?’’ said Molly’s voice over his head. 
“I said I’d just give him a good hug.” 

For one instant the arms held him tightly, a 
cheek was laid lightly on his thin reddish hair 
and then she was gone, flying down the corridor. 

“I suppose she regards me as an old gentle- 
man,” he said resignedly, laying his hand softly 
on the spot where her cheek had touched. 

As for Molly, she had a sudden thought that 
almost stopped her headlong course : 

“What would Miss Alice Fern think if she 
knew !” 



Good-bye to Wellington and the old happy days . — Page 303 . 



THE FINAL DAYS 


303 


The girls were calling impatiently when Molly 
reached the arch, and in three minutes the 
crowded ’bus moved down the avenue. 

^'Good-bye ! Good-bye !” called many voices. 

‘'Good-bye! Good-bye!” echoed the few stu- 
dents who were going to take a later train. 

Good-bye to Wellington and the old happy 
days ! Good-bye to the Quadrangle and the 
Cloisters! Good-bye to all the dear familiar 
haunts and faces. 

Every one of the girls felt the hour of parting 
keenly, but to two of Molly’s friends at least 
there came an additional pang. They had known 
no happier home; no other place held for them 
such close associations. Nance, pale and silent, 
and Judy, feverish and excited, turned their eyes 
lingeringly toward the twin gray towers. But 
Molly, her face transfigured by some secret happy 
thought, looked southward down the avenue to- 
ward Kentucky and home ! 

* * * * The class prophecy which Judy had 


304 MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS 
extemporized on the evening of her appearance 
as ‘‘History"' may have had some promise of ful- 
fillment, but it will be remembered that Otoyo's 
timely interruption saved her from guessing at 
the most puzzling future of all. It remains, 
therefore, for “Molly Brown's Post-Graduate 
Days" to reveal what Dame Fortune had in store 
for the girl of many possibilities, Molly Brown 
of Wellington and Kentucky. 


THE END. 






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